The Governess Club: Bonnie (5 page)

“You talk to your horse?”

Stephen turned at the young voice to see Henry standing at the stable door with his brother and governess. Arthur, as he had come to expect, was holding Miss Hodge’s hand and sucking his thumb.

Stephen focused on Henry. “Aye. Horses respond to sound and can identify human voices. Talking to your horse can build a bond between rider and mount. Besides, Emperor’s a good listener.”

Henry didn’t smile, but he did take a step closer. “We’ve come to see the kittens. The barn cat birthed some last week.”

“Indeed?” Stephen resumed brushing Emperor’s back. “Cats are useful, but I prefer dogs myself.”

“Why?”

Stephen shrugged. “I’ve always liked how dogs follow you around. You can walk for hours over the hills and they will stay with you. And you can always tell what they want, whether it is to chase after a bird or to chew on a bone. You can never tell what a cat is thinking.”

“But cats take care of themselves, my lord,” Miss Hodges joined the conversation. “Surely their independence speaks in their favor. A dog is nearly completely dependent upon its owner.”

“All the more reason to trust its loyalty,” he replied.

“But only until someone with a bigger bone comes along,” she rejoined. “I find cats much more loyal than dogs; they are not so easily swayed by their physical desires.”

Stephen stopped brushing for a moment, the thought of physical desires lodging in his brain. Surely she did not mean what he took her to mean. He cleared his throat and resumed brushing. When he didn’t reply, Miss Hodges led the boys safely around the horses to the stall where presumably the cat resided.

“You brush your horse too?”

Stephen glanced over his shoulder and saw Henry standing outside the stall, watching him. “Aye. A good horseman takes care of his own mount.”

“My father brushed his own horse. Not every day, but often.”

“Come here,” Stephen bade. When Henry came closer, he indicated how to come around Emperor safely. “Here,” Stephen fished into his pocket for another lump of sugar. “Emperor has a sweet tooth. He won’t bite you.”

“I don’t brush Emperor every day either,” Stephen said. “A groom can do just as good a job as me and sometimes I am in a rush. But I like to do it when I can.”

Henry had moved to stand beside Emperor’s head and was stroking his neck. From the way the horse was blinking, Stephen thought he must be in some state of horse heaven.

“I have a Dartmoor pony,” Henry said. “My father was teaching me to ride. He said I could have a stallion for my birthday.”

Stephen doubted that very much. “We will have to judge your horsemanship first.”

“But my father said—”

“Henry, did you know I met your father in school?” he interrupted. “We were in the same year at Harrow.”

“I know he went there. I am to go there when I turn eleven.”

“Aye. When you do, be sure to go to the stables. It was there your father and I spent most of our time.”

“Why?” Henry was curious.

“Well, boys at that age aren’t the sharpest. They like to let their fists do quite a bit of the talking. A boy with a Scottish accent and a boy who was smarter than even the older lads were easy targets. So your father and I spent most of our free time in the stables, learning about horses.”

Stephen gave a faint, fond smile. “Grimsby was the stable master. The best thing he ever did for us was to treat us like we weren’t special simply because we had titles before our names.”

He looked down at Henry. The boy had his eyes on him, rapt. “Grimsby taught us that horses were to be respected. Part of respecting a horse is being aware of the danger it holds. An inexperienced or unsuspecting rider can put his life at risk the moment he mounts up.”

“Truly?”

Stephen nodded and turned to face Henry. “Aye. And that is why I know your father did not promise you a stallion for your birthday. As much as he loved and respected horses, he loved you more and would not knowingly place you in a dangerous situation.”

Henry turned red and looked down at the stable floor. “I am sorry for lying,” he muttered.

“Henry, an intelligent man doesn’t hide from mistakes, but learns from them. Do not lie to me again.”

“Yes sir.” Henry was still staring at the floor. “May I go now?”

“Aye,” Stephen said. “The day after tomorrow I will watch you ride. I will see what your father has taught you and we can continue your lessons.”

One corner of Henry’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Truly?” At Stephen’s nod, his eyes glowed. “Thank you sir. I look forward to it.” He disappeared into the stall.

Stephen resumed brushing.

G
old mines in Cornwall. Corn fields in Scotland. Shipping lines to penal colonies in Australia. Expeditions to discover new rapid land-transportation lines to the East Indies. Investments swam before Stephen’s eyes. What in God’s name had George been thinking? Although according to Renard, George’s mind had become too pickled to exercise sound judgment.

It was frustrating. Sickening even, sifting through the mess that was the last months of his friend’s life. And all Stephen could think of doing next was shifting his attention to George’s more personal correspondence to search for any clues.

How could he unravel this mess? The money spent on poor investments was gone; there was nothing he could do about that. He would have to be vigilant with future financial endeavors in order to recoup the losses. But hell, George had been the one with the head for numbers, not him. That made this whole situation even more bizarre to him.

“Sir, have you been to Astley’s?”

Stephen’s attention was jerked away from his depressive ruminations. “What was that, Henry?”

“Astley’s Circus sir, in London. Have you been? I think it would be swell.” Henry’s face glowed with excitement from the top of his pony. The crisp late October air gave his cheeks a healthy red glow. “I would love to see the tricks they do on the horses.”

“No, I haven’t been,” Stephen said, adjusting his grip on Emperor’s reins.

“Perhaps we could go together to London? I think Miss Hodges and Arthur would enjoy it as well.”

“I don’t go to London often,” Stephen said, his mind drifting back to the poor investments.

“Oh.” The hope died in Henry’s voice. “I don’t think Miss Hodges is fond of horses anyway, but she likes fairs and fetes. I don’t know if she has ever seen a circus. I haven’t,” he concluded quietly.

Stephen inhaled through his nose. “Why do you think she does not enjoy horses?”

Henry shrugged. “I have never seen her one on.”

“Is that so?” There was a letter on George’s desk asking for investors to fund a railway for transporting coal from Durham to the port in Stockton-on-Tees. “I don’t understand it, sir,” Henry continued. “How can a girl not like horses? Or frogs. I tried to give Elizabeth Talbot my pet frog and all she did was scream and run away.”

Stephen gave a small smile. “Henry, the first thing you need to know about women is that they are not men.” London was the highest consumer of coal in the British Empire; an efficient transport system could get coal to the city more quickly, yielding high profits.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that men will be men and ladies will be ladies. They like different things than us and we will never understand the appeal of the things they like.” Investing in the railway as well as the coal mines it services could be a wise decision.

“And they don’t like frogs or horses?”

“They like flowers and ribbons and teas and dances and pretty words. Men like horses and frogs and boxing mills and Scotch. We give ladies the flowers, ribbons, and pretty words because that’s the only way we can get them to like us.” The project had received parliamentary approval recently, making it even more viable. Renard should look into it.

“But Archibald was a magnificent frog. A prime jumper.”

“Of course he was. But Miss Talbot saw a slimy thing that likes to eat insects.” Stephen would write to his own advisor in Edinburgh. The man had proven to be thoroughly competent since he’d let his father’s man go.

“Oh. So you are going to give Miss Hodges flowers and pretty words?”

That
got his attention. “Excuse me?”

“Well, if you wanted Miss Hodges to like you, you could give her flowers and ribbons and pretty words.”

Stephen reined to a stop and looked at Henry. “And what makes you think I want her to like me?”

Henry had a bit more difficulty pulling to a stop, but managed it. He didn’t look at Stephen. “You are unmarried and my mother said that all unmarried men needed wives. My father would fight with her about it whenever one of his unmarried friends would visit.”

Stephen was amused. “And you think to continue her matchmaking ways?”

Henry hesitated. “I do not want her to leave, but I am too young to marry her myself.”

Now it was Stephen’s turn to hesitate. “Is she planning on leaving?” he asked carefully.

Henry visibly swallowed. “Many have. I do not want her to.”

Hm. That made his stomach feel . . . strange. “As my guardian,” Henry continued, “you will be at Darrowgate until I come of age. If you married Miss Hodges, she would be here as well.”

Stephen cleared his throat. “Your logic is flawless.”

“Does that mean you agree? You will marry her for me?”

The boy sounded so eager. “No.”

“But you said—”

“That your logic is flawless. I know,” Stephen said. “Unfortunately, you cannot apply logic to marriage.”

“What do you mean?”

“Marriages based on logic and politics create unhappy people. Unhappy people are not beneficial to society; they have the potential to cause problems and destruction. If I were to marry Miss Hodges for your logical reasons, the potential for problems and destruction would be great.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

Stephen sighed. “Men are men and ladies are ladies, Henry. Men think with their minds, ladies with their hearts; they inevitably bring emotion into it, which never fails to muddy the waters. A logical marriage will only hurt a lady, which is something a gentleman should always try to avoid.”

“Why?”

“Ladies have the uncanny ability to make things very unpleasant for us men.”

“How?”

Stephen gave a sardonic smile. “I will tell you when you are older. Time to return to the manor.” He waited until Henry was several feet in front of him before clicking his tongue, urging Emperor into a slow walk.

Marry Miss Hodges? Ridiculous
. Stephen trailed Henry, allowing the boy to get a fair bit ahead of him.
Marry Miss Hodges? Preposterous.

What advantages would there be to marrying the woman? Aside from a steady source of physical satisfaction, there were no reasons to take such a drastic step; his lustful fantasies of her would cease in time. Easing an eight-year-old’s fear of abandonment was not incentive enough.

No. He was not going to marry Miss Hodges. He had barely finished cleaning up the mess his father had made and now he had to focus on cleaning up George’s. He would not subject any potential wife of his to what his mother suffered her entire married life.

No, he would marry when he was a stable, financially viable prospect and not a moment sooner. He would enjoy his nighttime fantasies of the woman and continue to determine the color of her hair, but it would go no further than that.

Miss Hodges would not leave Darrowgate and he would not marry her. Everything would be fine. Stephen took a deep breath, loosening the tightness in his chest. He focused on Henry, many yards ahead, already cresting the hill separating them from Darrowgate Hall. He squinted his eyes—was there something wrong with the girth on Henry’s saddle?

Henry looked back at him with a wide grin. “They’re waiting for us, sir! Let’s race to them.”

“Henry, no, wait,” Stephen called out, but it was too late. Henry had already spurred his pony Harold into a quick canter. Stephen quickly did the same, not trusting Henry’s skill in controlling the animal; the pony was not a large one, but it could still inflict damage.

Emperor’s hooves pounded over the ground, carrying him quickly up to the top of the hill. Henry was still a good distance away, Miss Hodges and Arthur waving at his approach. The others were too distant to see the girth trailing on the ground underneath Harold and most definitely too far away to do anything about it.

Stephen’s throat closed up, forcing him to deal with the blockage before being able to shout, “Henry, stop!” It came out hoarsely at first, so he repeated it with more strength.

Henry must not have heard him, for he continued with his pace. Stephen spurred Emperor into a full gallop, hoping to get to his ward before anything happened.

His hope went unfulfilled. Before his eyes, Stephen saw the saddle shift slightly to the side. Henry seemed to have noticed. His back stiffened, his entire body actually, and Stephen knew the boy had become paralyzed with the knowledge that something that wasn’t right.

Shouting again, Stephen urged Emperor into a flat out gallop. He was getting closer by the second and braced himself to lift the boy from the pony. He gripped the reins in one hand and began to lean to the side he would approach Henry on. He flexed his fingers, not wanting to chance missing him.

The yards between them were shrinking. Stephen kept his eyes on Henry, willing the saddle to not slip any further.

Yet another hope unfulfilled; he would have to have words with the Higher Being in Charge. They would need to come to some sort of agreement if this guardian thing was going to work out well.

“C
ome now Arthur, what letter does fence begin with? Fuh-fuh-fuh-fence.” Bonnie and Arthur were standing at the paddock fence, waiting for Sir Stephen and Henry to return from their ride. Arthur was hitting one of the rails, looking up at her. He wasn’t smiling with his mouth, but Bonnie was sure there was a smile in his eye. “What about rail, sweetheart? Rah-rah-rah-rail. You have done this before.”