This is getting out of hand, Beryl Valentine.” She spoke to her reflection in the train window. No matter where she was or what she was doing these days, thoughts of Gardiner Kennedy invaded her mind and heart. When they were apart, she wondered what he was doing, and when they were together, she could hardly concentrate for the flutters in her chest.
She flexed her wrist, thankful that over the last week, the soreness had lessened. As she had thought, it had been sprained but not broken. The long ride back to the Hunt Club had seemed all too short to Beryl, but the ensuing week had been never-ending. Her mother had been horrified at the injury, and the doctor had prescribed rest as the only cure. At one point Mother had been on the brink of forbidding Beryl to ride ever again, but Father stepped in saying he was proud of her grit and that she would be back in the saddle soon.
Lord Springfield had called repeatedly during the week, bringing her chocolates and books and staying to keep her company. He made a couple of disparaging remarks about Gard, but Beryl reprimanded him for it and he stopped. Mother sat in on his visits, visibly charmed and doing everything she could to encourage his efforts.
Gard had not come, though he sent a note to explain his absence. Mr. Schmidt had entered Arcturus and Spanky in a show in Albany, and Gard had taken them up there. The note contained nothing personal, just an explanation of his absence from their lessons for the week, a mention that he hoped her wrist would mend quickly, and an apology for his outburst toward Lord Springfield. Beryl kept it with her constantly, reading it over and over when she was alone.
The train rocked and swayed its way toward Syracuse and an overnight visit with Avila. Beryl had tried to put everything she was feeling into a letter to her mentor, but somehow, the words wouldn’t come out. She needed to see her friend face-to-face, to hear her words of wisdom.
Avila was seated in a wheeled chair on a broad front porch, her leg elevated and covered with a light afghan. Beryl almost cried as she ascended the steps and bent for an awkward hug.
“Beryl, dear, I am so glad you came. I’m about to go out of my mind with boredom. I miss my horses, and though Freeman visits every week, he never tells me anything.” She kept hold of Beryl’s hand, her dark eyes bright and blinking quickly. “How have you been? How are my lovely horses?”
Beryl told Avila all about the horses, how the vet was certain Rita was in foal, how Lacey was improving, and how Spanky was getting plenty of time under saddle. She mentioned the tumble she’d taken during the hunt but quickly showed that her injury had healed.
“Go on,” Avila said.
“Lacey’s entered at Deep Haven in the Handy Hunter and in the Ladies’ Equitation. I’m nervous about showing on such a big stage, but I’m excited, too.”
“Go on.”
“My father has come close several times this summer to selling Lacey.” Beryl straightened the fringe on Avila’s afghan. “He says she’s in her prime breeding years, and he can get a good price for her.”
Avila squeezed her hand. “He’s not wrong there, but for your sake, I wish he’d just gift you the mare so you could stop worrying. Go on. You haven’t gotten to the real reason for your visit.” She tugged on Beryl’s hand to get her to look up. “I know you. Something’s bothering you.”
“I’m here because of Gardiner Kennedy.” Beryl blurted out the truth, her heart bumping at just saying his name.
Her friend’s brows rose. “Oh? What’s he done?”
“Nothing, that’s the problem.” Beryl removed her hand and stood, too restless to sit still. She paced the porch. “He’s been wonderful. He’s kind and thoughtful and such a good horseman. He treats all the horses like his friends, and he’s taught me so much. He’s kind to the stable hands, he keeps the stable running smoothly, and he’s the most talented rider I’ve ever seen.”
“And he’s the best looking thing in riding boots?” Avila asked, her tone dry and knowing.
Beryl flushed, staring at her hands.
“Are you in love with him?”
“I don’t know!” She turned, shrugging and spreading her hands wide. “How can I tell? And what if I am? My parents will have several conniptions hand running if I waltz in and say I’ve fallen for my riding instructor. There would be a positive earthquake.” Tears burned her eyes. “They’ve got a toff of an Englishman picked out for me. Lord Springfield. He and my father are partnering together to build biscuit factories in Newark and Philadelphia, and he’s been underfoot all summer. I think he plans to offer for me, or maybe even skip asking me altogether and just work out an agreement with my parents.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Help me!” Beryl plopped into her chair once more. She pressed her palms to her middle. “Lately, I can’t think of anything but Gard Kennedy. When I’m with him, I can hardly breathe, and when we’re apart, I feel as if the most important part of me is missing. I don’t care that he’s a mere riding instructor. I only know that I’m happy when I’m with him and miserable when I’m not.”
“That sounds like love all right.” Avila frowned.
“And you know what? I realized that I cared more about him than I cared even about Lacey or any horse I ever had.” She was still amazed at this realization. “I never thought anyone or anything could mean more to me than my horses, but now I know that if Gard Kennedy asked me to forsake them and marry him and never own a horse again, I’d do it.”
Silence reigned on the porch as the truth of her statement sunk in. She’d never voiced it aloud, and had hardly even let herself think it.
“Has he made a declaration?” Avila finally asked.
“No.” Beryl took a deep breath. “I want him to, but I don’t know what to do about my parents if he does. My mother says it doesn’t matter if you have money, it only matters what your family connections are. And my father says he doesn’t care about connections, as long as you can make money. Gard doesn’t have connections or money, so neither of them will be happy. I wish I was just an ordinary girl, that money and connections never came into it.”
Avila reached out and touched Beryl’s cheek, surprising Beryl by wiping away a tear she didn’t realize had fallen. “Oh, child, even if you had no money or connections, you wouldn’t be ordinary. Sometimes, as Shakespeare said, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’ If Gard Kennedy is the one you love and want to spend your life with, it might mean disappointing your parents. But losing your parents’ esteem and making them unhappy isn’t something you should do lightly. Consider it from all angles, trying to be objective, though I know you can’t really. Try to see things from your parents’ perspective … and keep in mind, Gard hasn’t made any declaration to you. You might be laboring under a false expectation.”
By the time Beryl boarded the train the next afternoon, Avila had given her much to think about. Talking with her friend had clarified things in Beryl’s mind, but her heart was still in chaos. She loved Gardiner Kennedy, and she thought he might have feelings for her, too, but there seemed to be little either of them could do about it. Not unless she wanted to break her parents’ hearts.
Gard sat on a straw bale, resting his back against the side of the boxcar. Arcturus and Spanky stood quietly in their stalls at the far end. It had been a long week. Asa joined him on the bale, holding his back as he eased down.
“That is one persnickety horse. But it was smart of you to bring water from home.” Asa spread his gnarled, dark fingers out over his knees. “Mr. Schmidt is going to be mighty happy with your results up there at that show.” He motioned to the ribbons hanging on a wire strung across the opposite wall. They fluttered in the breeze created by the side door being cracked open a foot or so to let light into the car.
“I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t raise the asking price, what with how good Arcturus is.” Gard glanced at the stallion again. Both he and Spanky had done well, and they traveled like seasoned pros. But they, and he, would be glad to get back to Schmidt Farm.
Though the trip had been good for them. And for him. He had needed the breathing room to remind himself of his situation … to get his focus back on what was important.
Not that it seemed to help much. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about Beryl. The moment when she catapulted over that jump was frozen in his memory … as was the dizzying relief when he’d held her in his arms and knew she was alive.
He’d come within a gnat’s eyelash of kissing her right there in the woods with a handful of spectators looking on.
“We’re so close to everything we’ve worked for.” Gard leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “There’s only a few more weeks of lessons, and then Deep Haven, and I’ll have the money put together for Arcturus. We can take him to the farm and start booking mares for the spring. We’ll spend the winter getting things ready, making sure all the fences are in good shape, doing any repairs on the barn or house. And we’ll start looking for mares of our own to buy.”
“Mares like Miss Beryl’s Lacey? She’s just the type. I think she’d drop some nice foals.”
Gard shook his head. “I think she would, too, but I couldn’t buy her from Mr. Valentine. She means too much to Beryl. We’ll look somewhere else for hunter mares.”
“What are you going to do about Miss Beryl?” Asa asked.
It was the question that had been plaguing Gard since the moment he saw her. And the answer was the same as it had always been. “Nothing. I’m going to continue to give her lessons, get her ready for Deep Haven, and then say goodbye.”
Asa shook his head. “You gonna break her heart?”
“It won’t break her heart. She’s got an English lord all lined up.”
“Her mama has an English lord lined up. Miss Beryl might have other ideas, like maybe a washed-up cavalry man who is soon to be horse rich and cash poor.”
“It’s the cash poor part that means I need to steer clear of any entanglements. If you had seen the Valentine house … just the place where they spend the summer, mind you … you’d know what I mean. Can you imagine someone who grew up in a palace like that coming to live in a farmhouse that’s been closed up for the past six years? Can you imagine the belle of New York Society marrying a third-generation Irishman with nothing to his name but a farm and a horse?”
Asa grunted and closed his eyes, leaning back against the side of the boxcar. “If she loved you, she would. If she loved you, she’d say yes before you even finished the proposal.”
“Well, she’s not going to get the chance. Even if I did offer for her, her parents would laugh me right out of town. They’ve got higher aims for their daughter than a man like me.”
Maybe if he said it often enough, he could force himself to believe it and stop trying to find a way to make Beryl his.