Seventeen
During the next few days, Caitlyn came to realize—if she ever doubted it—that there were few secrets in a large household such as hers. Both family members and servants seemed to know and to approve of the change in the relationship between Atherton’s master and mistress.
Caitlyn found that she, too, definitely approved the change. The mature Trevor was proving to be a considerate, caring lover—solicitous of her desires, taking care to ensure that she derive genuine pleasure from their encounters. Despite his affinity for “this other means of communication,” Trevor readily discussed and shared ideas about every aspect of running the huge enterprise that was Atherton.
Nor had he rushed in to usurp her authority. In fact, he frequently deferred to her. Where another man might have barged in to assert himself as the chief decision-maker, Trevor had not done so. Caitlyn smiled at remembering the surprised looks on certain male faces when Trevor responded to a question or concern with “You must consult Mrs. Jeffries on that” or “I shall ask my wife.”
She appreciated the fact that he took time to acquaint himself thoroughly on a matter before asserting his own ideas or opinions. His approach not only commanded approval from male servants, tradesmen, and tenant farmers, it also elicited growing respect from his wife.
It was not a marriage made in heaven. They were developing a partnership based on mutual respect and shared goals. That was a good deal more than many women had from the institution of marriage. She was, in truth, inordinately lucky.
So why did she feel this vague dissatisfaction?
Preparations for the house party went ahead at a furious pace. While Harrison, Bowles, and Ratcliff—along with several other prospective guests—lived near enough to ride or drive in for all activities, a number of guests would be staying over. Rooms had to be prepared for them and accommodations provided for their servants. Aunt Gertrude supervised much of this activity, but Caitlyn found herself dealing with a multitude of details.
In the midst of it all, an accident in the stables unnerved her. Tom, one of the grooms, was injured when he was crushed between a big roan and the side of a stall.
“I don’t know what spooked him,” the wiry little man said through painful breaths as soon as Caitlyn had rushed to his side. “He ain’t never got out o’ hand before.”
“Ssh. Never mind right now,” she soothed. “We must get the doctor for you.”
Trevor arrived then and was quickly apprised of the situation. He organized two other stable hands to take Tom to his quarters and await the doctor’s arrival; then he questioned others.
“Wasn’t anybody in here but Tom an’ me an’ that new feller, Mason,” the youthful Jack told him.
“And where were you? Could you see what happened?”
“No, sir. I was clear down t’ other end. But Mason, he was in the stall next to where Tom and Sun’s Fire was.” Jack gestured to Mason, who stood in the background.
“Mason?” Trevor questioned.
“I didn’t see nothin’,” Mason said. “Heard the commotion, an’ when I come around, Tom was already down.”
Jimmy and Clarence stepped out of the stall in which Tom had been working.
“Anything?” Caitlyn asked.
“Not really. He’s still skittish, though. Seems to have some tenderness on his left hind quarter,” Clarence answered.
“Perhaps he was stung by a bee,” Caitlyn suggested. This seemed a reasonable theory to the rest, who nodded or murmured their agreement.
Living quarters for several stable hands were located above the stables along with the office. Reluctant to invade their strictly masculine domain, Caitlyn waited in the office while Trevor accompanied the doctor to examine the injured Tom.
“How is he?” she asked the moment they returned.
The doctor responded, “He has some broken ribs. I’ve wrapped him tightly to hold them in place. He’s in a good deal of pain. I assume you have laudanum on hand?”
Caitlyn nodded.
“He probably won’t be able to work as usual for two or three weeks.”
“Oh, no-o-o.” Caitlyn heard herself in a near wail as the consequences of this information hit her.
“Caitlyn?” Trevor’s voice held surprise at what he must have seen as her insensitivity. “We surely have enough hands to take over Tom’s duties as he recuperates.”
“Of course we do.” She felt embarrassed at the way the doctor and Trevor were regarding her. “You misunderstand. You see, Tom is our best harness man.”
“So?”
“He was to show the grays at Newmarket.”
“That does pose a problem. But we shall work it out. Come.” He motioned to her and the doctor. Saying he had another patient to see to, the doctor refused their offer of refreshment.
Caitlyn was lost in thought as she and Trevor made their way to the house. Once there, she immediately dispatched a servant with the painkiller and a tray of food for the injured Tom.
Later that day, the first of their guests began to arrive and her life assumed a whirlwind atmosphere.
Taking on the role of host at even such a modest gathering was a vastly new experience for Trevor. He found he quite enjoyed it. He was even able to greet Latham and Graham as resident guests with true equanimity. Theo, of course, he welcomed enthusiastically, and he looked forward to enjoying the company of Moore and Jenkins as well.
The highlights of the party—which would last for a fortnight and more—were to be a ball and, two days later, the horse show at Newmarket. To fill out the rest of the time, Caitlyn had planned a busy schedule, but one that allowed guests to participate or not at their own paces. Outdoor activities included riding, fishing, and lawn bowling. Some of the more intrepid of the men joined Trevor for his morning swims. Guests were encouraged to enjoy the gardens at their leisure. Evening found them playing cards or charades or listening to music as provided by one or the other of the ladies in the group.
Everything had gone smoothly, Trevor thought, until the ball. He knew Caitlyn had gone riding or driving with Latham and Graham on occasion, but always properly accompanied. At an alfresco picnic, she had spent an inordinate length of time in deep conversation with Ratcliff, but the discussion had occurred, after all, out there in front of the whole company. And, he recalled with an enormous degree of male smugness, it was his own bed she readily shared every night.
The ball—ostensibly to introduce Melanie and Andrew—was a rather large affair. Local guests swelled the attendees to well over a hundred people. Prior to the ball, there was a dinner party to which many of the “horse set” had been invited. In the drawing room, after the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies, much of the talk was in anticipation of the Newmarket show.
Trevor stood at the side of the room talking with Theo. He observed Bowles and Harrison approach Caitlyn as she stood speaking with their wives.
“I say, Mrs. Jeffries,” Harrison boomed, thus capturing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. “I just heard your driver for the team race was injured.”
“Yes, he was,” she said, but did not elaborate.
“How unfortunate.” Harrison’s tone held a distinctly false note of sympathy, Trevor thought. “I expect this means you will decline to participate, then.”
“Not at all.” Caitlyn’s voice was casual. Too casual. Trevor waited. In the flurry of activity in the last few days, he and Caitlyn had not discussed the horse show, though he was aware that everyone at Atherton was looking forward to the meet as a means of displaying the best that Jeffries Farms had to offer.
“Oh, you have found a new driver, have you?” Bowles asked. “On such short notice?”
“We had a second driver all along,” Caitlyn paused and glanced at Trevor, then back to Harrison and Bowles. Trevor felt a premonition slither through him. “I shall drive the team myself.”
Stunned silence greeted this announcement Trevor felt as though he had turned to stone. Good God! What was she thinking of? Handling the reins of a spirited team under ordinary driving conditions was difficult for a man—and this little slip of a woman proposed taking on such a task—in the heat of a race, yet? Impossible. Not if her husband had any say in it—not while he still drew breath!
“I beg your pardon!” Harrison sounded blustery.
“Unheard of,” Bowles said.
“Surely you do not doubt my horsemanship?” Caitlyn’s tone was silky.
“Mrs. Jeffries.” Harrison apparently intended this as a fatherly reprimand. “I have the greatest respect for your ability. For a woman, you do exceedingly well.”
“For a woman?”
Trevor wondered why the others did not seem to notice the steel in her voice. “Excuse me,” Trevor said to Theo and moved to stand next to his wife.
Harrison continued, oblivious. “Females simply do not race teams. Good heavens, woman, they are rarely even capable as ordinary riders.”
“Mrs. Jeffries is a very capable rider.” Ratcliff joined the group as though he were leaping to Caitlyn’s defense.
“That, however, does not make her a capable driver.” Bowles sounded testy.
“Have you seen me drive a team?” Caitlyn’s tone was very reasonable.
“Well, no, but—”
Harrison interrupted. “I am not racing my team against a woman.”
“Nor am I,” Bowles concurred.
“May I ask why?” Caitlyn asked in that same reasonable tone.
“My dear lady.” Harrison was definitely condescending now. “It would not show to our advantage to win out over a woman.”
“Assuming you would, indeed, win,” she responded.
“The alternative would be most unlikely, my dear.” Harrison shrugged. “In any event, it is a moot question. I seriously doubt that any of the gentlemen showing their stock at Newmarket will agree to race against a woman.”
Trevor moved closer to Caitlyn and gripped her elbow. His voice was hard. “Well, then, Harrison, you will have to settle for being bested by one of Atherton’s second-rate drivers.”
“And who would that be?”
“Me.”
“You? Everyone knows you have not driven competitively in years.”
“True. It is, however, a skill that one does not forget once it is mastered.” He grinned at Caitlyn and was warmed by her blush and the appreciative twinkle in her eyes.
“Well, in that case . . .” Harrison grumbled.
“Shall we adjourn to the ballroom, my friends?” Caitlyn’s voice was bright, but Trevor sensed the undertone of tension.
The ball itself proceeded without incident, for which Caitlyn was grateful. Trevor led his sister out for the first dance, and Andrew partnered Caitlyn. Soon other couples joined them. As hostess, Caitlyn had not expected to have such a good time, but she danced every dance and enjoyed the laughter and repartee with her various partners.
She thought she might have shocked any high sticklers present by dancing three times with her own husband. Although she had come to expect the intense awareness she felt when he was near, that reaction had not lessened with their increased intimacy.
She dutifully danced with her male houseguests, including Latham and Graham. Bertie had made his annoyance quite clear when Caitlyn refused a second dance with him in favor of a third with Trevor. Graham had been kindness itself since his arrival. Tall, dignified, and with an air of bearing great problems, Graham had reformist interests that paralleled her own. She simply appreciated his friendship.
As she did Sir Willard Ratcliff’s. After dancing with Ratcliff, she stood on the sidelines with him, sipping a glass of lemonade.
“You were wise to let Trevor take over as driver, you know,” Willard observed.
“Let him? You may have noticed that I had little say in the matter.”
“Still, it was a good idea. Harrison does carry some weight in certain circles, as you well know. He could have made things very difficult.”
“And he cannot do so now?” she asked with disbelief.
“Let me just say he is less likely to now. Besides, it truly is better for Trevor to do the driving.”
“Oh? You think he is that much more skilled at handling the reins than I?”
“Well, he is stronger, and that is important. But it is also quite beside the point.”
“And the point is . . . ?”
“Just this. I assume you mean to show your team to best advantage.”
“Of course.”
“How much attention do you think the animals would get when the spectators faced the unusual phenomenon of a woman as the driver?”
“I suppose that is a consideration,” she said, grudgingly accepting this argument.
Ratcliff chuckled. “Harrison actually did himself a disservice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know your cattle and their lineage very well—remember? I doubt his will show to better advantage than those from Jeffries Farms. He would have done better to let potential buyers be distracted by a woman as whipster.”
She laughed. “All right. You have convinced me. I shall stop feeling so put upon.”
“Good.” They stood in companionable silence for a moment, then Willard cleared his throat. “I . . . uh . . . I wonder if you are fully aware of how much importance is being attached to this . . . competition . . . especially between your cattle and Harrison’s?”
“No more than is customary, I assume.”
“But it is. I have an idea your husband is not fully aware, either.”
She felt herself coloring up. She did not want to discuss—even with Willard—the fact that Trevor had only recently learned of Willard’s close association with Jeffries Farms. “Why is this particular meet so extraordinary?”
“Perhaps it happened after you left the city—but there was a—discussion, shall we say?—in one of the clubs. White’s, I think. I was not there, but it seems Lord Carstairs was bragging rather forcefully about the merits of a mount he recently purchased.”
“Black Knight. A wonderful horse.”
“Harrison was there, and when Carstairs made known where he had obtained this splendid animal, Harrison made a slighting remark.”
“Did he now?” She could feel her hackles rising.
“Then someone else said that Jeffries Farms was producing some right smart looking carriage teams as well. Harrison took singular exception to this. One thing led to another, and the upshot of it all was a number of bets placed in the books.”
“Wagers? On what?”
“Harrison’s stock versus yours. To be decided at the Newmarket meet.”
Caitlyn closed her eyes briefly. “Good heavens.”
“I thought you and Trevor should know. There will be a goodly number of people in the crowd at Newmarket who have a vested interest in the outcome.”
“I suppose you mean to say half the ton’s male element will be there.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps not half, but a goodly number. Newmarket is drawing as much interest as Brighton this year.”
“Oh, good heavens,” she said again. The races at Brighton were the premier competition for race horses, with the Prince himself keenly involved. “No wonder Mr. Harrison seems so self-confident.”
“Smug, you mean.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Changing the subject—”
“Please do.”
“I hope I am not out of line in saying this, but you seem happier—more content—now than when we were in town.”
“I am always happier here at Atherton.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I think it is more than that, my dear.” He laughed. “And judging by that scowl your husband is directing my way, I am sure of it.”
Startled, Caitlyn looked at Trevor who stood several feet away and was, indeed, scowling. She smiled at him and withdrew her hand from Willard’s grasp. Did Trevor’s scowl indicate genuine feeling for her alone? Or was this merely a male creature asserting territorial rights? She hoped it was the former.
“In any event, Caitlyn, I am glad to see you happy.”
“Thank you, Will. I have always valued your friendship.”
“Mutual, my dear.” He looked around the room. “What do you think of the Brentley chit?”
“Belinda? She seems a tolerable sort. I do not know her well. Why?”
“My mother is pushing her as a candidate to become the next Mrs. Ratcliff.”
“Oh. Well, then, I shall have to become better acquainted with her.”
“There is no hurry.”
They were joined then by two other couples, and the talk became more general.
Later that night, she and Trevor lay together in his big four-poster bed, his arm around her, her head tucked into his shoulder. They sleepily congratulated themselves on the success of the ball. She told him of the heightened interest of the ton in the Newmarket meet.
“Hmm. That puts a slightly different light on things, does it not?” he observed.
“I should think so. Uh—Trevor?”
“Hmm?”
“I know that racing is not something you truly want to do. . . . We might be able to find a replacement for Tom.”
“Other than you, you mean?”
“Yes.” She told him of Ratcliff’s reasoning about a woman driver.
“Ratcliff’s right, of course. But it would be most difficult to replace Tom at this point with someone unfamiliar with our stock.”
“Then you truly do not mind racing them yourself?”
“No, of course not.”
But she thought his answer was a bit too glib.
“Let us get some sleep,” he said, pulling her closer and kissing her tenderly.
She snuggled into the warm protectiveness of his embrace and was soon asleep.
Trevor lay awake for some while thinking about what had transpired and contemplating the coming race.
Caitlyn’s announcement that she would drive the Jeffries team had struck sheer terror into his heart. Instantly, he had seen the wreckage and broken bodies of the accident that had claimed Terrence and Jason. A flashing image of Caitlyn lying sprawled, injured and unconscious, had sent a wave of nausea through him. There was no way in this world he could stand by and watch her engage in such a madcap scheme, though he readily admitted that she was assuredly the most skilled horsewoman of his acquaintance.
No! He could not run the risk of losing her, too. Not now. He kissed the top of his sleeping wife’s head and drew in the faintly flowery scent of her hair.
Yes, he was doing the right thing in rescuing the reputation of the farms that bore his name—farms for which Caitlyn had worked so hard. But he could not shake a profound sense of guilt and betrayal. Had he not sworn never to do again precisely what he had just agreed to do? What kind of hypocrite was he, anyway?
With this question gnawing at him, he seemed to see Terrence and Jason as they sat across from him arguing that they should take his place in that long-ago race. Only now Terrence was saying, “This is different, Trev. This is not just a sporting event—a mindless competition of boys trying so hard to prove themselves as men that they ignore the dangers of an open road. The purpose here is to display the results of the work of many people at Atherton and to ensure proper reward for their efforts.”
Jason nodded agreement.
And Caitlyn deserves this chance, Trevor thought, before drifting off to sleep himself.