The Admiral's Daughter (11 page)

Miss Haversham seemed surprised, but said no more. Maggie, however, had felt an instant affinity for this young woman, and proceeded herself without any encouragement—

“There was a quarrel between our families for many years. My cousin's father disowned my mother, who was his niece, and I have never met any of the Ramblays before. My visit
now
is only a kind of gesture of reconciliation on Lord Ramblay's part, but I do not think he cares much about it.”

“I should not be so quick to judge him, if I were you,” said Miss Haversham, still intent upon tightening her horse's girth and arranging the stirrups to her liking. “He is not an easy man to know—you may take my word for it.
I
have known him these five years and yet do not feel I am equipped to make him out. But of one thing I am certain—a better man does not exist in England, and though his respect is not easily won, there is no one more loyal afterward.”

“I could wish for a little less stiffness, however,” responded Maggie lightly, at which Miss Haversham turned to her with a keen look.

“My dear girl, ‘lightness' is a cheap virtue. I hope you never have cause to discover that for yourself. For
my
part, I value duty and honor a great deal more highly.”

The assembling of the rest of the party just then made further conversation impossible. Maggie would like to have heard more upon the subject of her cousin, but in the ensuing commotion of horses being led from the stables, the yapping of hounds, and cries back and forth between masters and grooms, her curiosity soon gave way to enjoyment. Seated upon the wonderful filly, Maggie was too engrossed in the proceedings to care about anything but the colorful spectacle going forward around her. The gentlemen all wore scarlet and black, and the ladies, seated
side-saddle, looked like an array of fashion portraits from France. Whether they hunted or no, they had all the proper garments on, and Maggie thought, with a smile to herself, what a waste it was in yards of fine cloth, to have so many bodies dressed for a pastime they neither indulged in nor cared about. The party began to fall into place behind the master of the hunt, who, sounding his horn for the hounds to be led out, called for the ladies and gentlemen to take their places behind him. Just at this moment, Lord Ramblay, who had been consulting with his groom, rode up beside her.

“Do you accompany us to the start, Cousin?” he asked with a smile. “I see you have been very well mounted indeed.”

“Oh, admirably so! But I think I go beyond the starting line—at least, as far as I am able to keep up.”

At this Lord Ramblay looked grave. “It is a dangerous sport, Miss Trevor. I should not advise you to undertake it unless you have great confidence in yourself, and in your mount. The men all go extremely fast, and there are one or two fences in the field which have confounded more experienced riders than yourself, and stronger arms.”

“I am grateful for your concern, Cousin,” responded Maggie with a smile, “but in truth, it does not worry me much. If Miss Haversham is not afraid of them, I do not suppose they can be so very bad. We are of the same height, and I believe I am quite as strong as she.”

“Miss Haversham is an astonishing good horsewoman, Cousin—and afraid of nothing. Indeed, I wish most heartily she was
more
afraid, for she takes her fences sometimes in such a way that I wish I was not forced to watch. I should not judge my skill against hers, if I were you.”

Now Maggie was a little offended, to be spoken to as if she was a child. What could Miss Haversham, a pampered belle, dare that she could not? Was not she Admiral Trevor's daughter, and had she not inherited, if not his authority in battle, a good deal of his bravery? Thrusting out her chin a little, she replied:

“You have no need to worry about
me
, Cousin. I shall do nothing to injure myself. It is true I have never undertaken a hunt before, but I was raised upon a horse, and believe I have some little skill in the handling of them. I shall just follow what I see the others do, and back away from any
jump that looks too high. Rest assured, I have no ambition to be killed.”

Lord Ramblay attempted to dissuade her once more, but seeing that his cousin was determined to do as she liked, and that nothing he could say would deter her, he moved away with a resigned look. Had she looked after him, however, Maggie might have seen him ride up to a groom and murmur something. The servant glanced in her direction and nodded. With one last look at his cousin, Lord Ramblay took his place at the head of the hunt, and in a moment they were moving forward.

The starting point for the chase lay at a distance of two miles from the stables, where the formal wooded deer park converged on a vast expanse of wild fields and woods. Here the ladies drew in their mounts and moved off to one side, while the rest of the party gathered behind the master of the hounds, now giving his beasts the scent. Maggie had only time to look out for Miss Haversham, who, returning the look, smiled encouragingly, before the trumpet sounded and, with a great clamor of beating hoofs and a raising of dust behind them, they were off. Maggie had little trouble in keeping her place at first. The exhilaration of the sport, the feel of brisk wind about her face and throat, the powerful rhythm of her filly's pace, all raised her spirits and made her brave. She had a natural seat, and powerful arms, and had always felt comfortable in the saddle. The filly was so swift and smooth that her confidence was raised with every moment, and when she saw that she was going as fast as any of the men, and that the ground they covered was clear of rocks and not unduly rough, the tremor she had felt at first died down. For half an hour they raced along at a full gallop, with the yapping hounds guiding them over the hills and through intermittent wooded patches. The first fence was low, with only a small rivulet behind it. The filly sailed over it as if it had been a mere nothing, and Maggie, relieved to see how fearless her mount was, and how limber, gave up all worry to the enjoyment of the day.

Miss Haversham, meanwhile, had begun slowly to gain upon the others. Her stallion, without any evidence of exertion, now seemed to leave them behind in a cloud of dust. In amazement, Maggie saw her friend head straight toward a ravine which might have been avoided—which,
indeed, lay out of the path they were taking. The ravine was very deep, its sides nearly vertical, and almost twenty feet across. The stallion took it without a moment's pause, and the sight of that tall, proud girl in her scarlet coat and plumed hat, upon her glorious beast, nearly took Maggie's breath away. She saw one or two of the men follow behind, and then young Montcrieff, with a determined look, turned his horse in the same direction. Lord Ramblay, however, who had been second behind Miss Haversham, fell off a little and rode close by his cousin. Without a word, he signaled her to go around the ravine. Nodding her head, Maggie rode to the right of the jump, where only a small gully wound between two muddy banks, and in making her crossing, lost sight of the others. Only a low cry, when she had reached the opposite bank and ridden beyond it, made her turn her head.

Eight

SHE HAD ACHIEVED
the entrance to a wood, following behind the other gentlemen in the party and their grooms, when the sound from behind her made her rein in her filly and turn. At first she could see nothing. Miss Haversham, having made her crossing, had pulled up and was going back to the ravine. Lord Ramblay, turning at the same moment, began to gallop full tilt toward the gully. The sides of the ravine were very steep, and must have hidden whatever had occurred from view. But by now several others were turning in the direction of the gulf, and Montcrieff's groom, together with some other servants, were gathering at the edge. Turning her beast about, Maggie cantered in the same direction.

There was so much confusion, when she reached the bank, that she could not at first understand what had occurred. Lord Ramblay was scrambling down the shore on foot toward a crumpled figure at the bottom. With a gasp, Maggie guessed it was Mr. Montcrieff, and from his immobile, twisted position, thought at first he was dead. But in a moment the young man gave a groan and raised his head. Lord Ramblay was now at his side and, lifting him gently, was demanding if he were very badly hurt. It was soon discovered that the chief injury was in his leg, which still lay twisted beneath him, and which he seemed unable to move. With the aid of his own groom and the young man's, Lord Ramblay lifted him gently from the ground and helped him to climb cautiously up the steep and slippery bank.

The safety of the gentleman having been assured, the party's attention was now turning to his horse, still lying motionless upon its side. From the agonized gaze in its eyes and the pathetic resistance it was giving a groom who was pulling at the reins in an effort to raise it, it was clear
the beast was in an agony of pain. Heedless of her skirts, Miss Haversham had jumped down from her stallion and rushed down the bank. Having accorded her lover one glance and being assured that his injury was slight, her attention was now turned to the animal. With one quick, angry cry she pushed the groom aside and bent down beside it, feeling with expert, gentle fingers, about its neck and the left shoulder.

“Idiot!” she cried, glaring up at Mr. Montcrieff. “Vain, stupid idiot! You have broken his neck!”

Mr. Montcrieff, leaning between his groom and the Viscount, could only swallow and stammer some incoherent phrase.

“By Jove, Blanche!” he protested lamely, “it's only a horse, you know! You ought to be thinking of me, surely!”

Miss Haversham gave him a withering look.

“Ought I?” she said in tones of heavy sarcasm. “I suppose you are right. I ought to think of you, who have nothing but a sprained ankle for your idiotic conduct, while this poor beast is damaged beyond help. I suppose you will blame the horse for leading you over the jump just where the ground gives way, too!” Miss Haversham gestured in the direction of the place where Mr. Montcrieff had fallen. A section of earth had crumbled beneath the horse's weight, and earth and rocks had collapsed into the ravine.

“Why, what are you talking about?” cried Montcrieff indignantly. “It was just where you took the jump! I only followed you, Blanche.”

“Nonsense. I took it three feet away, where I was sure the ground was firm. But you were too occupied with showing off your own skill to pay any heed to where you rode. It is to just that sort of vain, egotistical riding that half the accidents in England are owed. If men would put as much intelligence into their riding as they do arrogance, there would be no need to kill so many innocent animals.”

A number of the party had by now assembled on the banks of the ravine, and Maggie saw from their faces that they felt as mortified as she at hearing Mr. Montcrieff thus upbraided in public by his own fiancée. Only one gentleman, coughing, put in—

“Now, now Blanche, you cannot expect us to believe
that
you
knew the bank was weak at that point!”

Miss Haversham stared at the speaker coldly for a moment, and then walked to the place where the ground had given way.

“It has always been my understanding,” she said now, in a low, deliberate voice, “that one does not ride blind. See here—pointing with her crop to a piece of turf which had fallen away from the banks, and on which, amid the trampled clots of mud and grass, a hoof mark was plainly visible— “that is where his left foreleg trod. It was the very edge of the bank, and jutted out over the ravine without any support. I would never lead
my
horse over a jump without knowing he had a firm foothold from which to spring.”

“I am afraid Blanche is right,” said Lord Ramblay, moving closer to the spot where Miss Haversham stood and examining the piece of earth. “It was a false ledge. You ought to have looked more carefully, Montcrieff. But be that as it may, the thing's done. We had all better move along now. I shall take Montcrieff back to the castle, while you finish the hunt.” Seeing protestations were about to be raised, the Viscount held up his hand— “No, no, there is no point in giving up the chase. Continue along as you were going before.”

Those of the party who still had any ambitions of killing a fox that day began to move off in the direction of the wood where Maggie had first heard Mr. Montcrieff's cry. Hoping to be of some help, Maggie herself stayed behind, turning aside her cousin's urging to join the rest with, “I have some little knowledge of bandages, Cousin, and am an able nurse, if it is needed.”

Miss Haversham, meanwhile, had gone back to the horse, and murmuring some directions to her own groom, gave the poor beast one last look before scrambling up the sides of the bank, waving away the proffered hand of a servant. Waiting for Mr. Montcrieff to be helped onto a new horse, Maggie could not help watching the young lady with admiration. Her skirts muddied and torn, her hat sitting awry atop her tangled black waves, her black eyes shining with anger and indignation, she had looked like a young Athena standing at the bottom of the ravine and lecturing her lover. Even as she had felt a twinge of sympathy for the hapless Mr. Montcrieff, Maggie had
agreed with Miss Haversham's estimation of the vanity and heedlessness of the young man. It was so rare to see a female who had the courage of her convictions—sufficient courage, in any case, to ignore the sneers and hidden smiles of the others, who had been all too astonished at her outburst to do much more than shuffle their feet and stare at the ground. Miss Haversham, if she had been perhaps a little hard on the gentleman, had plainly a brave heart, and a higher standard of values than her friends, who seemed to care for nothing save their own comfort and pleasure.