plans for the builder.’
‘Such a lot of work,’ sighed Samuel. ‘The place has been sadly neglected. I always intended to do something about it, but…’
He trailed off and Lucas said cheerfully, ‘I do not despair of returning it to its former glory. The house is already under way and I have made a start on taming the wilderness that was once the park.’
‘I wish you good fortune, then, Mr Monserrat. If we can help in any way, you only have to ask. In fact…’ Samuel straightened in his chair ‘…if anyone knows the lie of the land it is Belle. She grew up playing in those woods and grounds.’
‘Oh, no, Papa. I am sure Mr Monserrat would be better advised to study a map.’
‘Nonsense, my love, you know every dell, every spring and stream at Morwood.’
‘But surely you could be more helpful to him, Papa,’ she persisted. ‘After all, you remember the house and grounds as they were before the fire. You have not yet given up your horses, a gentle ride would be good for you.’
A strange look came over Samuel’s face. Fear? Revulsion? Lucas could not decide, but a definite tremor ran through the old man as he shook his head.
‘No, my dear,’ he said quietly. ‘I do not care to ride there any more.’
‘I would be honoured if Miss Havenham would give me the benefit of her knowledge,’ said Lucas. ‘Perhaps, ma’am, you would ride out with me one day and show me these, er, streams and dells.’
‘An excellent idea,’ put in his host, rousing himself once more. ‘And you should do it soon, while the weather holds. What about tomorrow, sir?’
‘Papa, I do not think—’
Samuel was so caught up in his own thoughts that he did not hear her.
‘Yes, if you are free, Monserrat, I think tomorrow would be most convenient. I know Belle intended to spend the day at home, but Dr Bennett is coming over to play chess with me in the afternoon, and it is very dull work for a young lady to be sitting with two such elderly gentlemen when she would much rather be roaming free over the fields, what?’
Annabelle opened her mouth and closed it again. Her father had anticipated every objection. Lucas rose.
‘Then it is settled.’
Lucas came towards her, smiling with unholy amusement at her consternation.
‘I must be going. I shall call for you tomorrow, Miss Havenham.’ His back was to his host and he added quietly, ‘It seems you are not rid of me quite so easily.’
She bit her lip before replying with much feeling, ‘Nothing about you is easy, Mr Monserrat.’
Apollo was fresh. The big grey sidled and sidestepped playfully when Annabelle rode away from Oakenroyd, and she was glad that she could give her attention to controlling her mount and did not have to make conversation with the man who rode beside her, mounted on a hunter of equal size and strength to Apollo.
‘I am somewhat surprised you agreed to ride out with me, Miss Havenham.’
‘I did not choose to do so.’
‘If you really did not wish to come, you could have told your father the truth about our first meeting.’
Apollo took exception to a wood pigeon flying out of the hedgerow and she quietened him before making her reply.
‘That would upset him and he would be obliged to cut your acquaintance. I would not have him on bad terms with a neighbour.’ She glanced behind her. ‘And as you see, I have Clegg with me today.’
‘You would be quite safe, even if you had not brought your groom.’
His tone was perfectly sincere, but Annabelle had not forgotten his insolent manner, nor the hard looks he had given her when she had come upon him at Morwood.
‘Perhaps,’ she said coldly. ‘I would rather not put it to the test.’
‘I can see I have some work to do to gain your good opinion, Miss Havenham.’
‘A great deal,’ she retorted.
‘But you will allow me to try?’
‘That implies good behaviour does not come naturally to you.’
‘Of course not. I was in the army for fifteen years and they teach one discipline, but not society manners. Pray allow this boorish soldier a chance to redeem himself.’
He smiled, softening the harsh features. The dangerous look in his eyes disappeared, replaced by something warmer, an invitation to share his amusement. Annabelle was shaken by the transformation and had a great desire to smile back. Instead she looked away, not ready to capitulate. She pointed to a nearby lane.
‘If we turn in here, we can go across the moors and gallop the fidgets out of these horses.’
The exertion, the sensation of flying over the ground, did much to ease the tension Annabelle was experiencing. They raced neck and neck along the track that cut through the rough moorland. The gorse was coming into bloom; in a few more weeks there would be huge splashes of brilliant yellow dotted over the moors, contrasting sharply with the black, almost lifeless heather that would turn first dark green, then purple as the summer progressed. She felt at home here, free to roam, but the approaching woods reminded her that her freedom was now curtailed. That wall of trees was her boundary. The land surrounding Morwood Manor was no longer hers to ride over as she wished. She tried not to be downhearted. Her father still owned sufficient land for her to enjoy a daily gallop. She must not be greedy.
They pulled up in the shadow of the trees and waited for Clegg to catch up before joining the track that wound its way down through the woods to Morwood. Annabelle saw immediately that changes were in progress. The encroaching undergrowth had been cut back to make the path through the woods once again wide enough for a carriage.
A laugh escaped her. ‘It is like “Sleeping Beauty.”’
‘I beg your pardon?’
She had been so engrossed in her thoughts she had forgotten her companion. A self-conscious flush touched her cheeks.
‘When the prince arrives and wakes the princess. The forest has been growing around the castle for a hundred years and he has to hack his way through the brambles.’
He looked around. ‘Just five-and-twenty years has been enough to change the woods out of all recognition.’
They continued towards the house. Even before it was in sight, the sound of hammering could be heard ringing on the breeze, along with snatches of song from the workmen.
‘Your coming is timely, Mr Monserrat,’ she conceded. ‘You have brought a great deal of work to Stanton at a time when it is much needed.’
‘I have heard the harvests were bad last year.’
‘Dreadful. They called it the year without a summer, the crops rotted in the fields. The farmers had nothing to harvest, so the labourers had no work and no money was spent, thus the tradesmen suffered too.’ She shook her head, remembering the sad, strained faces in the town. ‘My father did what he could, set men on to renew the road from Oakenroyd to Stanton and rebuild the stone walls.’
‘And he borrowed money to do it.’
‘Yes.’ She looked across, frowning slightly. ‘How did you know that?’
‘A guess, merely. Ah, here we are.’
They emerged from the trees and the house now stood before them. It was just over two weeks since Annabelle had ridden here last—and been so rudely accosted, but she must try to forget that. She was astonished by the transformation. A forest of scaffolding was growing up around the old walls, the sweeping drive was covered with wagons and much of the ground between the house and the woods had been cleared of weeds and saplings.
‘I