'You were fortunate. I cannot imagine you would find much to read in your uncle's house.'
I smiled, in spite of myself. 'Very little.'
'Then you must come visit me at the Hall. I have a good library. You would be welcome to borrow anything you wanted.' His eyes went past me for a moment and swept the marketplace behind us. 'There is Rachel.'
I turned and looked, my eyes widening a little as I spotted Rachel in the company of a man. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and large, capable hands and a strong and compelling face. I looked again at those shoulders, and suddenly remembered where I'd seen him before.
'Is that Evan Gilroy?' I asked. 'Ay.' Richard de Mornay eyed me strangely. 'I wasn't aware that you'd met.'
'We have not. I saw him when he brought my box up from the village. Rachel told me his name. He is a friend of yours.'
It wasn't really a question, but he answered it anyway.
'Ay, we are friends. Your Rachel is in good hands'
There was little doubt about that, I thought wryly, watching as Evan Gilroy handed several parcels over to Rachel and bent down to speak to her. Whatever he said brought a flush of colour to her pale cheeks, and as he turned away to walk in our direction, she watched him leave with eyes that did not bother to hide their longing. She did not see me, standing in the shadowed corner beside the tall gray horse, and I sighed in unconscious relief.
'Evan,' Richard de Mornay hailed his friend, 'this is Mistress Farr, lately come to Greywethers.'
Evan Gilroy lifted his hat as he drew level with us. The frank, intelligent appraisal of his gray eyes was not unpleasant, and I smiled easily at him.
'I believe you have already done me a service, sir,' I told him, 'for which I owe you thanks.'
'The delivery of your box, you mean? 'Twas no great matter, I assure you. And it is Richard you should thank, since it was he that asked—"
'We must be going,' Richard de Mornay cut in, casting a black look at Evan Gilroy that was easily deflected by the latter's guileless smile. 'You should find your horse, my friend.'
' 'Tis in the next lane,' the big man said, nodding at me once more before moving off. 'A pleasure, mistress.'
Richard de Mornay swung himself into the saddle and reined his horse tightly, turning so that his polished boot in the stirrup was only inches from my face.
'You will remember,' he said, 'to come and view my library.' I strained my neck to look up at him. 'I am sorry,' I told him, 'but I cannot.'
'May I ask the reason?'
'My uncle,' I said plainly, 'has forbidden me to speak to you.'
He stared down at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in thought.
' 'Tis odd,' he said slowly. 'I'd not have thought you a coward.'
Before I had a chance to reply, he touched the stallion's neck with the reins and was gone, leaving me for the second time to stare after him in foolish confusion.
'Mariana!' Rachel called me from the street, and I went slowly out to join her.
'I thought you were lost,' she said to me, handing me a wrapped joint of beef to carry and shifting her own parcels into a manageable load. 'Did you find what you were looking for?'
'I bought a book.' I showed her.
Rachel raised her eyebrows.
'You will have to hide that from Jabez,' she said, matter- of-factly. 'He takes a dim view of women reading for pleasure.'
I was beginning to think that my uncle took a dim view of anyone doing anything for pleasure, but I merely bit my lip and hugged my book more tightly. We began our four-mile walk home in silence, both occupied with our own private thoughts. With each step I took, the heavy joint of meat seemed to grow heavier yet, and more unwieldy. When we had gone but a mile on the road I nearly dropped it altogether.
' 'Tis a pity that Evan Gilroy was not chivalrous enough to carry this wretched thing home for us,' I told Rachel ruefully, struggling to recover my burden.
Her head snapped round with a start, her eyes wide and alarmed. 'You saw us?' I nodded, touched by her embarrassment. 'He is a handsome man, Rachel.'
She lowered her head, not meeting my eyes.
'I am betrothed,' she said, her voice slow and steady, 'to Elias Webb, the bailiff of Exbury.'
I had seen the bailiff. He was a stern, unyielding man with a dour, humorless mouth and a perpetually black expression that matched his somber clothing.
'Oh, Rachel.' I could not contain my dismay.
She went on stoically.
'He is a friend of your uncle's, and an honest man. We are to be married at the summer's end.'
I said nothing, and after a minute she lifted her eyes to mine once more, her expression almost pleading.
'So you see,' she told me, 'it would not be seemly for me to be seen speaking to Evan Gilroy. Of course, I would never do such a thing.'
I reached to give her hand a small squeeze of reassurance. 'I saw nothing,' I said.
Her taut face relaxed into a smile, and as I watched, I saw the twinkle return to her forget-me-not eyes.
'No more did I,' was her cryptic reply.
We spoke nothing more until we came to Exbury and the lonely gray house. Aunt Caroline was in the kitchen when we arrived, feeding baby John beside the hearth. She looked incredibly gray and weary, and her eyes were red.
'Jabez is gone to Salisbury for a time,' she informed us dully. 'He has some business there.'