I looked back at her, and my green eyes were as hard as her blue ones. ‘You know as well as I do, that will not happen,’ I said blankly. ‘I am not the sort for that kind of love affair. I don’t like it.’

‘Then I suggest a marriage of convenience,’ she said. ‘Once you are married you can take control of your own estates and you need no longer apply to Mr Fortescue for your allowance. You can run your land as you wish and send these land-sharers and profit-stealers packing. You can make Wideacre a highly profitable place again and live as you please. If you choose a husband who will not trouble you, you can pay him an income to stay away from you and you can live the life you wish.’

I looked at her, and suddenly I understood. ‘Peregrine,’ I said flatly.

She did not even flinch. ‘Peregrine if you wish,’ she conceded. ‘Or any other. The choice is yours, my dear. I should never coerce you.’

I nodded. I had been waiting a long time to discover what Lady Clara was after. I knew a pitch for a gull when I saw one, she had been patient with me, she had played me on a long line. But I understood now what she was after. And I admired her for not denying it.

‘I am sorry,’ I said flatly. ‘I should never want to marry. Not Peregrine, not anyone. I am ready to go home at once. Mr Fortescue will arrange a companion for me. I am grateful to you for your kindness. But you need teach me no more.’

The languid movement of her fan waved me back into my chair.

‘I said it should be as you wish,’ she said gently. ‘If you do not wish to marry Perry then you need not. I would have thought you would have liked to get your hands on your own land and on your own wealth; and if you do not marry Perry it will be a long and wearisome wait for you – five long years, Sarah! – but the choice is yours. Wideacre is yours, whatever happens. And I am happy to teach you and present you at Court – whatever happens.’

I dipped my head. Once again, as happened nearly every day, she had shown me the elegance and generosity which came so easy to those that had never been hungry, who had never been short of space, who were never pressed for time. She had the generosity of a woman who had never known hunger. It came easily to her. I longed to learn that same casual, easy nonchalance.

‘Thank you,’ I said gruffly.

‘Voice,’ she said, without a change in her tone.

I lifted my head and spoke more clearly. ‘Thank you,’ I said.

She smiled at me, her eyes an impenetrable blue. ‘Don’t mention it,’ she said charmingly.

25

I did not like Mr Fortescue being gone. I did not like it that Wideacre Hall was lived in only by Becky and Sam. I did not like it that there was no smoke coming out of the front chimneys when I rode along the Common behind the house and looked down on it. I did not like it that the front door was always shut.

It had been comforting, in some way, to know that though I had defied him and left him for the Haverings, James Fortescue was still there if I had wanted to go back. But now the furniture in the parlour and the dining rooms, and all the front part of the house was under dust sheets and James was gone.

It made me glad to see Will. Only he knew about Wideacre, only he loved the place as my mother had done. And he came to ride with me every day – as James had asked him to do – and he took me over every field, explaining what was being ploughed and planted and what was being left fallow.

Lady Clara raised no objection at all. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You have to know every inch of it if you are ever to argue against your trustee and his manager. You will have some difficult battles ahead of you over the next five years. Your only chance of winning some of them is if you know the land as well as Will Tyacke.’

So, included in my schooling as a conventional young lady was an afternoon ride every day with Will. I never wore my breeches now. Instead I had a choice of two new riding habits – a pale green one to show off the colour of my eyes, and a slate-coloured grey one. I always waited to be called, as a young lady should, in the parlour. So it was he who waited in the stable yard while I pinned on my hat and took up my gloves and whip.

‘No need to rush, Sarah,’ Lady Clara said looking at me over the top of a journal she was reading. ‘Move more slowly and you will move more smoothly.’

I nodded and went as smoothly as I could over to the mirror and adjusted my hat a careful half-inch.

‘Better,’ she said approvingly.

I looked at myself. I could not see a fraction of difference. But it was not my trade. She no doubt thought she saw an improvement.

‘It’s a hot day,’ she said languidly. ‘Do try and keep your face shaded, Sarah, you are already far too brown.’

‘Yes, Lady Clara,’ I said.

‘When you come back from your ride you can offer Will Tyacke a glass of small beer in the kitchen,’ she said.

I hesitated. ‘I don’t think he’d like that,’ I said.

She raised her arched eyebrows. ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Don’t tell me he’s a water drinker as well! That would be too too ridiculous!’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen him drink beer and wine. But he’s a proud man. I don’t think he’d like being offered beer in the kitchen when I go into the parlour.’

Lady Clara put the journal face down on the little table beside her and took up her fan. I knew her well enough now to note the little signs which showed that she was thinking carefully about what I was saying. I was on my guard at once.

‘Would you regard him as someone suitable for my parlour?’ she asked carefully.

‘No,’ I said. ‘He does not even like the parlour at Wideacre. We always talked in the dining room.’

She nodded. ‘Are you suitable for my parlour?’ she asked.

I hesitated.

‘Are you?’ she asked me again.

‘No,’ I said blankly. ‘I know you have taught me how to walk across the floor and how to sit on a chair without flinging myself into it. But in my heart I am still not Sarah Lacey a young lady. Inside me I am still…’ I broke off. I had been about to say ‘Meridon the bareback rider’ but I never wanted that name spoken in this house. I never wanted Lady Clara to know how low my life had been before I found my way here.

She gave me a cool little smile. ‘Sometimes in my heart I am a naughty little girl who would not wash her face until her father beat her, who liked to play with the peasant children outside the castle in Ireland,’ she said. ‘We are all other people in secret, Sarah. There is nothing unusual in that. But I learned to be a lady of the first Quality in London. You will learn that too. It is what you want, is it not?’

‘Yes,’ I said. It was. I wanted to leave the old life, and the old loves, far behind me. It was too great a pain in my heart even to think of them. I had to be far far away from them, and never go back again.

‘Then you come into my parlour and Will does not,’ she said. ‘I instruct you to offer him a small beer in the kitchen at the end of your ride. It is correct to be thoughtful towards one’s servants, Sarah. You should offer him a cool drink after he has escorted you in this heat.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, Lady Clara,’ I said, and then I left the room opening the door with my right hand and closing it carefully behind my back with my left.

Will was sitting, patient as a tree stump, in the afternoon sunlight in the stable yard. He was holding Sea’s reins. Sea turned his head and whickered when he saw me, Will smiled too.

‘Quite sure you’re ready now?’ he asked with his warm easy smile.

‘Aye,’ I said. ‘I was delayed on my way out. I’m sorry I kept you.’

‘I’m in no hurry,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Shall I get you up?’

There was no need. I could have vaulted up as easily as ever but there were two grooms and a stable lad who all appeared out of the shade to lift me up.

‘He’s fresh,’ one of the older grooms warned me, pulling his forelock. ‘Begging your pardon, Miss Lacey.’

‘She’ll handle him,’ Will said with quiet confidence, and we turned away down the woodland track which led out to Wideacre land.

‘Where today, Sarah? Up to the Downs to gallop the fidgets out first? You’ve not seen the sheep for a few days, we’re about ready to start shearing.’

‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘And I’d like to come out when shearing starts. Is it a lot of extra work?’

‘We use travelling shearers, or extra men from Midhurst,’ Will said, his long-legged cob falling into stride beside Sea’s dancing steps. ‘We usually get it over and done within a week. We set up shearing pens beside the barns on the Downs, and send the fleeces to London to be sold. This year we have a contract with some woollen mills in Hampshire so we’re selling direct at an agreed price. Once the shearing is over there’s a bit of a party for the shepherds and their families and the shearers in the barns.’

I nodded. We were trotting down the woodland track, the way I had come the first time I had brought Perry to Havering Hall. The sunlight was dappled on the track, the sound of the River Fenny low and musical. The birds were singing in the upper branches of the trees and the air smelled sweet and warm and summery.

‘Oh,’ I said in longing. ‘I’d love to sleep outdoors again.’

‘Tired of Quality living already?’ Will said with a wry little smile. ‘There’s always a bed for you in Acre.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t go backwards. But this summer is so fine, and I seem to spend all my days indoors.’

‘Aye,’ he said gently. ‘You don’t get out and about much, do you? It’d irk me badly. We’ve not been bred to the indoors life, you and me. I’d go half mad cooped up all day in a parlour like that.’