Joan Wolf Read Online Free Page A

refuse to allow the hunt to cross your fields,” I said, ruthlessly exploiting this advantage.
    Susan gave me one of her “That’s one point for you” looks. I smiled guilelessly.
    “Would the rest of the hunt members agree to eliminate guests, my lady?” she asked.
    “They won’t be pleased,” I said frankly. “It will probably mean that their subscriptions will have to be raised. But I think you have a valid concern. Either we will have to hunt solely on the Downs, or we will have to be more careful about whom we allow to come out with us. Your Robby could indeed have been seriously hurt if he had been playing in the shrubbery when that horse came crashing through.”
    Over a second cup of tea arid a few slices of Susan’s bread, I promised to send men over from the hall with fresh boxwood plants to replace her ruined shrubs. I had finished my refreshment and was getting ready to reclaim Elf when Susan said, “Did you know that Jem Washburn was back, my lady?”
    I subsided back into my chair. “No, I did not know that Jem was back.” My surprise sounded in my voice.
    One of Susan’s cats, seeing that my lap was empty, jumped up to make herself comfortable, I began to stroke her soft gray fur.
    “Washburn is dying, but I don’t think Jem has come back to say good-bye to his dear old pa,” Susan said ironically.
    “Washburn is a pig,” I said. “Everyone always knew that he beat Jem, but no one would ever do anything to stop it.”
    “Mr. Stephen tried to stop it,” Susan said.
    My hand stopped its stroking motion, and the cat turned her head, fixed a commanding stare on me, and gave a sharp, indignant meow. I began to pet her again.
    “Bob says Jem has come home to take over his father’s lease on the farm,” Susan told me, “but he’s afraid Mr. Grandville won’t give it to him. Jem was wild as a boy, but I hear he’s steadied now that he’s older.”
    I scratched the cat beneath her chin, and her purr got louder. I said, “It is not Mr. Grandville who will make the decision about who is to get the Washburn farm.”
    Susan’s pretty face was full of anticipation. “Is it true, then, my lady? Is Mr. Stephen really coming home?”
    “Lord Weston named him to be Giles’s guardian,” I said. “Under the circumstances, I cannot see any reason for him to remain in Jamaica.”
    “It will make us all so happy,” Susan said, “to have Mr. Stephen home again.”
    * * * *
    The sun had burned off the rest of the clouds while I was inside Susan’s cottage, and after offering Elf a drink and tightening her girth, I mounted. Instead of returning home by the Weston Road, however, I turned my mare onto the well-trodden dirt path that led from the village to the Downs. Her ears pricked as she realized where we were going, and her trot became bounder.
    I let Elf break into a canter as we drew closer to the rolling hills that marked the skyline to the north, and very soon we were cantering over the close, fine turf of the Sussex Downs. I felt the surge of Elf’s hindquarters under me as we began to climb. I was riding sidesaddle today, as I always did except when I was hunting, and I was careful to keep my weight balanced forward so as not to weigh her down as she drove uphill.
    We reached the level top of the Downs and turned toward the double row of juniper bushes that made a sort of natural lane, about fifty yards wide, along the top of the hill.
    Elf’s ears flicked forward until they were almost touching. She knew what was coming, and the instant I moved my hands forward, she accelerated into a full gallop. The wind whipped past my ears, and I clicked to Elf to go faster. She stretched out, a Thoroughbred in flat-out run, one of the fastest things in the world, and I bent low over her neck, and the ground streamed past beneath us, and the blood pumped strongly through my veins, and I wanted never to stop.
    We did about a mile at full speed, and then we began to slow down. At the end of a mile