Page 50 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)
This candid observation caused Elizabeth to raise her eyebrows in surprise before a warm smile spread across her face. “Indeed, they are creatures of admirable directness. I take it your Mr. Hislop was not offended by this equine forwardness?”
“He is hardly my Mr. Hislop,” Anne protested, though without genuine annoyance. “But no, he was most understanding. In fact, he was quite humorous about it once we had the animals separated.”
“They had a lovely conversation afterward,” Kitty added, an impish smile playing at her lips. “All about horses and breeding programs and the stables at Rosings. I’ve never seen Anne speak so enthusiastically about anything.”
“It is refreshing to discuss a subject with someone who shares one’s knowledge and interest,” Anne said, her tone measured but unable to entirely disguise her pleasure in the memory. “Mr. Hislop has devoted considerable study to classical horsemanship.”
Kitty exchanged a meaningful glance with Elizabeth. “Knowledge and interest were certainly shared,” she agreed with theatrical emphasis. “And if I’m not mistaken, Mr. Hislop’s interest extends beyond mere horseflesh.”
“Kitty,” Georgiana murmured again, more urgently this time.
“Well, I have eyes, don’t I?” Kitty replied undeterred. “He looked at Anne exactly as Lord Shandly sometimes looks at me when he thinks I’m not noticing. And he asked permission to call at Darcy House, which seems rather telling, does it not?”
Anne shook her head, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “He wishes to continue our discussion of horses, nothing more. Mr. Hislop has extensive plans for a breeding program.”
“Of course,” Kitty nodded solemnly, though her eyes danced with mischief. “Purely professional interest. I’m sure many gentlemen request permission to call upon ladies solely to discuss horse breeding.”
Before Anne could respond to this gentle teasing, the door opened to admit Mrs. Jenkinson, whose thin face set into lines of disapproval as she surveyed Anne’s windblown appearance.
“Miss Anne, I have been looking everywhere for you,” she announced, her tone suggesting Anne had been deliberately evasive rather than simply enjoying her morning ride.
“You must change at once. These riding clothes are far too warm for the weather, and you are quite flushed.” She moved closer, producing her vial of smelling salts from her pocket.
“Do you feel feverish? I warned about the dangers of overexertion.”
“I feel perfectly well, Mrs. Jenkinson,” Anne replied, her voice cooling noticeably. “The exercise has done me good, not harm.”
“Exercise is all very well in moderation,” Mrs. Jenkinson persisted, “but discussing horses with gentlemen is most unladylike! I happened to overhear some of Miss Bennet’s account. A young lady of your position should not concern herself with such matters as breeding and training.”
Elizabeth straightened slightly, perhaps preparing to intervene, but Anne spoke before she could, annoyed that her companion had apparently been eavesdropping on their conversation.
“My father did not consider knowledge of horses unladylike,” she said firmly. “He believed that a woman who would one day manage an estate should understand all aspects of its operation, including the stables.”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s lips pursed. “Your dear mother has quite different opinions on suitable feminine accomplishments. Lady Catherine would be most distressed to hear of your returning to such pursuits after she specifically discontinued them for the sake of your health.”
“My health has improved with riding, not deteriorated,” Anne countered, her voice still level but with an underlying hardness that surprised even herself. “And as for discussing horses with Mr. Hislop, I found our conversation both educational and enjoyable.”
“Mr. Hislop?” Mrs. Jenkinson repeated, her eyes narrowing. “Lady Catherine would never approve of such an acquaintance.”
Elizabeth chose this moment to intervene, rising gracefully from her seat. “Mrs. Jenkinson, perhaps you might ask Harrison to bring some refreshment for the ladies after their exercise. Riding does create quite a thirst.”
The companion hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave but unable to refuse a direct request from the mistress of the house. With a slight sniff of disapproval, she departed, though not without a final concerned glance at Anne.
“Thank you,” Anne said quietly to Elizabeth after the door closed. “She means well, but...”
“Her concern can be somewhat stifling,” Elizabeth finished diplomatically.
“Now, shall we hear more about this Mr. Hislop? He sounds like a gentleman of considerable knowledge. And, to put your mind at ease, Anne, I asked Darcy about him – he is from a perfectly respectable family. I have no qualms about your continuing the acquaintance.”
As Kitty eagerly resumed her narrative, embellishing certain details for dramatic effect, Anne found her thoughts turning inward.
The morning’s encounter had awakened something in her that had long been dormant, not merely her interest in horses, but a sense of her own capability and judgment.
For years, she had allowed Mrs. Jenkinson, her mother, and others to dictate what was best for her, accepting their assessments of her limitations as truth.
Today, she had spoken with confidence about subjects she truly understood, made decisions without seeking approval, and even disagreed openly with Mrs. Jenkinson.
It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.
Anne had no illusions about the limits of her newfound independence; Mrs. Jenkinson would undoubtedly write to Lady Catherine, and her mother’s response would be swift and forceful.
Yet Anne found herself determined not to retreat.
She had Elizabeth and Darcy’s support, she felt sure of that.
And the memory of her father’s pride in her horsemanship somehow strengthened her resolve to reclaim this part of herself, regardless of her mother’s disapproval.
But beneath these thoughts of independence lay a more complex emotion.
The pleasure she had taken in Mr. Hislop’s company, the way his enthusiasm had sparked her own, the genuine connection she had felt as they discussed shared passions – all of it carried a shadow of guilt.
Lord Joseph had been gone barely a month.
His death remained unsolved, the circumstances still discussed in hushed tones throughout London society.
Was it disloyal to his memory to feel such immediate connection to another gentleman?
Anne gazed out the window, only half-listening as Kitty described Mr. Hislop’s attempts to control his prancing stallion and Rosalind’s hilariously flirtatious behaviour.
Lord Joseph had been kind, genuine in his admiration for her beyond her fortune.
His final poem had touched her deeply, revealing a depth of feeling she had only begun to recognize before his tragic end.
She had mourned him sincerely, grieved for the potential that died with him.
Yet life continued, as it must. Her enjoyment of Mr. Hislop’s company did not diminish the genuine sorrow she felt for Lord Joseph.
Perhaps it was possible to honour both; the gentleman who had shown her she was worthy of true admiration, and this new acquaintance who reminded her of capacities and dreams she had long abandoned.
“Anne?” Elizabeth’s gentle voice broke into her thoughts. “You’ve gone quite far away. Are you well?”
Anne turned from the window, finding a small but genuine smile. “Yes,” she replied, with more certainty than she had felt in weeks. “I believe I am.”