Neville walked Betty into it. Her nostrils flared, and her sides heaved like a bellows. “Will you shut the gate?”
Clara closed and latched it behind him. Her heart was halfway in her throat, her stomach clenched in both fear and anticipation. She didn’t know what to expect. At only twelve hands, Betty couldn’t do much damage, could she? She was just a pony.
But when Neville slipped the rope halter from her head, Betty managed to make herself look as big and dangerous as a full-sized horse. She reared up on her hind legs, shaking her neck and striking out with her hooves.
Clara’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, do be careful!”
Neville didn’t seem at all alarmed. He backed away from Betty slowly. When he reached the fence, he climbed over it with ease.
Betty cantered wildly around the pen, Firefly leaping and kicking at her side. She whinnied, high and shrill, tossing her head and quivering all over.
“She’ll hurt herself,” Clara said.
Neville came to stand next to her. “She won’t.”
Clara wished she could feel as confident. Instead she felt cold and wet and quite certain she was about to witness either Betty or Firefly break one of their legs. “Is there nothing you can do to calm her?”
He shook his head. “She’ll c-calm on her own.”
Clara supposed she’d simply have to trust him. He knew horses far better than she did. And he was the last person on earth who would let an animal come to harm. “I hate to see her so frightened.”
“She’s not afraid.”
Eventually, Betty slowed to pace the perimeter of the pen, examining the fence and what lay beyond it. She stopped to snatch a bite of grass, and again to paw at a mud puddle. And then, all at once, her front legs folded beneath her and she seemed to collapse to the ground.
Clara was on the verge of another worried exclamation when, much to her surprise, Betty rolled straight over.
And then she rolled over again, back and forth on her back, until she was covered with mud.
An involuntary gurgle of laughter rose in Clara’s throat. “My goodness. She’s certainly enjoying herself.”
Neville smiled. “She is.” He turned his head. “Are you?”
“Yes. Very much.” The rain streamed from Clara’s bonnet. “I only regret that it’s not a bit sunnier.”
“You should come back in…in the summer.”
“I doubt Mrs. Bainbridge could be persuaded to return. She’s had difficulty acclimating to the dampness.” Clara hesitated. “And I don’t know if I’ll still be employed by her in the summer. Or even in the spring.”
His smile faded.
“I have to go away, you see. And I’ve only just taken up this position. It isn’t very well done of me, to abandon my post so soon after being hired. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Bainbridge decides she’s better off without me.”
“What are you…” He visibly struggled over his words. “I d-don’t understand.”
“I wanted to tell you yesterday evening, but there was no opportunity. And then, later, I thought you might have already heard something about it from Mr. or Mrs. Archer.”
“I haven’t heard anything.” He searched her face. “What d-do you mean you have to…to go away?”
“Just that.” An unexpected tremor of emotion seeped into her voice. “I’m leaving Devon day after tomorrow. And I don’t expect I’ll be coming back.”
Neville listened in numb silence as Clara explained about her brother, and how she must depart Devon. She didn’t know for how long. There was a good chance she wouldn’t come back at all, that she’d instead return directly to Mrs. Bainbridge’s cottage in Surrey.
In which case, he’d very likely never see her again.
A chill settled around his heart. He hardly noticed Betty and Firefly wandering in the pen, or the rain soaking his hair and seeping through his coat. He could only stare at Clara, a mass of emotion knotting itself inextricably in his chest.
He’d thought he had ten more days with her. But now…
“You can’t go,” he blurted out. A grimace followed. He hadn’t meant to put it so bluntly. So unartfully. “You just…you c-can’t.”
“I must. I’d have gone sooner if I could. Heaven knows what’s going on with my brother.” A deep shiver ran through her. “Cambridge wouldn’t threaten to send someone down for no reason.” Her teeth began to chatter. “It must b-be very b-bad.”
Neville’s brows lowered. Her cloak and bonnet were dripping, and her face was pale as marble. He cursed himself for failing to notice it before. “You’re freezing.”
“I am, rather. I think I’d b-better go inside.”
“Wait for me,” he said. It wasn’t a request.
She nodded again before turning back to the stables, picking her way around the puddles and loose stones.
Neville let himself into the pen and coaxed Betty back into her rope halter. She was covered in a thick layer of mud. She needed to be sponged off with a bucket of warm water. A time-consuming process. And he hadn’t any time to spare.
But there was no shirking his duties.
He led Betty back into the stables, Firefly at her side. Clara was seated on the mounting block. She’d removed her wet cloak, bonnet, and gloves, but she was still shivering. And he could see why. The rain had seeped through her cloak to soak into the bodice and skirts of her gray woolen dress. It was covered in dark, wet patches.
“Stay there,” he said as he led Betty past her.
Clara didn’t argue. Her teeth were chattering too much to speak.
He put Betty and Firefly away in their loose box, leaving them with some fresh hay to tide them over until his return. And then he went to collect Clara. “Come with me.”
She stood. “Where?”
“I have rooms upstairs.”
“Oh…I couldn’t.” She hung back. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
“It’s all right.” He put a hand on her back to coax her forward. She was trembling beneath his touch. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or because of him. “I’ll light a fire. We can k-keep the…the door open.”
Clara didn’t look entirely convinced at the wisdom of such a thing. She nevertheless permitted him to escort her up the single flight of creaking wooden stairs behind the feed room. It led to a small landing in front of a closed door.