Langdown Manor by Sue Reid Page A

would he say? ‘That Miss Penelope, she’s a rum one. I found her hanging around the stables in the dark. I don’t know why.’
    I couldn’t think why now either. Some stupid idea I’d had about it feeling like home. It didn’t feel like home now.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here either.’ I turned to go.
    â€˜No, wait,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. We have to be careful,’ he explained. ‘These horses are valuable.’
    He had lifted the lantern up a little. ‘Is something wrong?’ he said.
    I may as well tell him the truth. ‘Fred, I’ve had an awful afternoon,’ I said simply. ‘I couldn’t bear to go back into the house. I just didn’t know where else to go.’ I looked at him pleadingly. He was silent. Had I made an awful mistake? What made me feel I could trust this boy that I hardly knew?
    He was looking steadily at me, but the hand that was holding the lantern was trembling.
    I felt myself shiver. He leaned forward and I felt his hand touch my arm. It was the lightest softest touch, but I felt the warmth from it run all through me. ‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘You’ll catch a chill. Here. Put this on.’ He took off his jacket and draped it gently over my shoulders. We neither of us spoke; we just stood there quietly together. I felt comfort slowly seep into me. I felt as if I could have stood there with him for ever, but at the house I knew that they’d be wondering where I was. Reluctantly I slipped off the jacket and handed it back to him.
    â€˜Thank you,’ I said.
    â€˜For what?’ he said, putting it back on.
    Surely he knew. For being there, for being a friend. For making some little part of Langdown feel like home.
    â€˜Will you be riding tomorrow?’ he asked. He hadn’t been looking at me, but now he raised his eyes and looked full into mine. I felt dizzy. I felt as if I could hardly breathe. Happiness flooded through me.
    â€˜Do you need to ask?’ I whispered.

U PSTAIRS

    I stood in the middle of the room, watching as bolt after bolt of creamy white fabric was unrolled and laid on the bed for my inspection. They all looked the same to me, but Madame said they were ivory, cream and lily of the valley. Aunt told me to choose my favourite. I picked the first one Madame had unrolled. I didn’t care which I wore. I didn’t want to be presented. I didn’t want to go to Court. And I most certainly did not want to be a young lady.
    But in a few weeks’ time this fabric would be draped around me – my presentation gown. In it I was to emerge like a butterfly from a chrysalis – a young lady.
    Arabella was being fitted for her gown, too. She flitted from one fabric to another as a moth hovers round a candle, unable to make up her mind. I wanted to cry with impatience. How long did it take to choose a fabric? Aunt wanted us to match each other. But we’d never do that.
    Outside, rain had begun to fall. But I was sure that Fred would be wondering where I was. I’d said I’d see him today. ‘Aunt,’ I said, striving to keep the impatience out of my voice. ‘I was to have gone riding this afternoon.’
    â€˜In this rain?’ she said, lifting her eyebrows.
    They were expecting me, I told her.
    â€˜Not in this rain,’ she said firmly.
    It was still raining when at last I was free to go. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Fred was expecting me. Sam, the hall boy, let me out. He yawned. It was the hour the servants had off.
    I ran round the house to the stable yard. I kept my head down. The rain was coming down harder now. The door to Starshine’s stall was open. I ran up to it. Fred was bent over inside, shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forking out the old hay and muck. He put down the fork and wiped his forehead, his back