Her horse seemed to understand her, so she urged the mare on, over a high jump that led to the next field. She rode on down its full slope, to the bottom of the hill, where she stopped at a pond and allowed the mare to have a drink.
Henry pulled up next to her.
“What is it about Paris?” she asked after a few moments.
“Paris is life,” he said, patting his mount on the neck as it rounded in circles.
Louisa turned to face him.
“Montmartre is where it’s all at. Paris is about being modern—it’s about immersing yourself in the present moment, rather than the damned antiquities of the past.”
Louisa started a little.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“No, go on.”
He let go of his horse’s reins and leaned back in the saddle so that he was lying flat, his back against the horse, staring straight at the sky. “Cabarets that attract the literary crowd, theaters showing Molière and Jean Racine every night, dance halls, rough and seedy or deluxe and decadent, circuses—where the unimaginable becomes possible time and time again.” He stayed where he was. “If I was born into a different life, I would have been an actor, Louisa. I hope I am not shocking you.”
Louisa was silent for a moment. She looked down over the lower part of the valley. What Henry had just said, she admitted to herself, had an element of shock. But if she were honest, he was making her excited.
Writers, poets, artists—was he talking about a free intellectual life in Paris? She turned to Henry, even more interested now. “I confess I’m intrigued,” she said. “It sounds like the exact opposite of . . . here.”
Henry sat up then, took up his reins. “That’s exactly it. It’s just what I mean. We should get back, you know.” He sounded moody now. He paused for a moment, holding his horse’s reins, but held off telling him to walk on. “I came to Willowdale because I was bored at home. I’d only been there two days.” He looked at her as if challenging her to react.
“I imagine that it would not be difficult to become bored easily at home, given where you have just been,” Louisa said, holding his gaze.
He nodded, as if she had given him the right answer. “I’ve invited Guy to my place, to Ashworth, for a few days, along with Meg. Before they go away. Would you like to come?” he asked, looking urgent, somehow.
Louisa pushed back the instinct to laugh again. She shrugged. “Ashworth?”
“As I say. It’s my family’s . . . place.”
The horse’s breathing had settled, and Louisa moved her forward at a slow walk. “Well, if Guy and Meg accept, then I cannot see any reason for me to stay here, nor can I see good cause to return to London on my own.”
“I can’t stand the thought of returning to London myself,” he said, all of a sudden.
That made two of them. “I see. Well, then. I accept your kind invitation, pending everyone else’s agreement, of course.”
“Shall I firm things up with Guy?”
Louisa looked ahead. “Why not?” She had to work out what she was going to do without Meg, now she was married. Meg’s governess was returning to Boston once Meg was established in her position. There was no reason for a governess to remain here. Louisa had no idea what she would do with herself in the long run.
“I’m going to race you back to the forest now.” She urged her horse forward, pushing her legs into the mare’s flank and leaning forward in her sidesaddle.
Henry was right alongside her. “Wait,” he said. He reached over and took hold of her mare’s halter for a moment.
The two horses were close, and Louisa resisted the impulse to pull hers away. Both animals were breathing hard as if keen to get moving, and she could smell the heady mix of leather and horse, but she was also aware, right then, of Henry.
“I’ve enjoyed meeting you. Thank you for letting me join you on your ride,” he said. “I confess, I rose early this morning and came out here to find you. Because Guy had told me that you were not one of the . . . average debutantes.”
Louisa pressed her lips together and held back a laugh. “Did he?” she asked. “And what exactly did he mean by that?”
“I don’t know.” Henry grinned. The horses started to jiggle around on the spot.
Louisa leaned forward and soothed her mare.
“But when I’m intrigued by something,” he went on, still close.