03 Mary Wakefield by Mazo de La Roche Read Free Book Online Page B

through the one o’clock dinner and were encouraged by their father. He felt shy of the new governess. She was so different from what he had expected. He was veryconscious of her presence. Over and over he wondered, chuckling at the thought, what would be the expression on his mother’s face when she saw Miss Wakefield.
    When he saw how daintily she was dressed for the outing he felt he should have done something to titivate his own costume but the effort was too great. He decided to go as he was, in rather a disreputable old tweed suit and a battered straw hat. But nothing could have been more shining than the Surrey and the chestnut pair harnessed to it. The horses were superbly matched. Plenty of elbow-grease had been expended on the polishing of their equipment. Their fine eyes rolled in their eagerness to be off. Mary’s heart sank as she saw polished hoofs stamping the gravel. Could one pair of arms control them? Her long cloth skirt hampered her in climbing to the seat. She placed a foot on the step and Philip took her by the arm. He took her by both arms and half-lifted her up. She was there, on the rear seat and Meg scrambling up after her!
    Philip took the reins from the stable boy and gave the encouraging chirrup for which the horses had been waiting. Now their hoofs made a staccato tapping on the drive and scattered gravel to the verge of the well-cared-for lawn. As they turned into the road and Mary became conscious of Philip’s competence with the reins, saw with what skill he controlled the two fiery beasts, her fear subsided and she felt a kind of wild exhilaration. It was thrilling to bowl along the white road between the spreading branches of massive oaks, her responsibility lifted from her for the moment and nothing to do but give herself up to enjoyment. How often similar equipages had passed her in London and she had looked with envy on the occupants! Now here she was, in this spacious new country, riding behind a glittering pair, her little charges docile, her employer — but no, she must not keep thinking about her employer, how well his coat sat on his broad shoulders, the way his hair grew on the back of his sun-burned neck. And even while she told herself to keep her mind off him, she inwardly exclaimed, “He’s like no one else! He’s fascinating!”
    Yet all he had done was to talk to her a little about quite ordinary things, to mount to the driver’s seat behind his horses and to display his back to her. His fascination probably lay in his difference from the men she had hitherto met. They had mostly been journalists, friends of her father’s, hardworked, often pressed for money, often disillusioned. Philip Whiteoak looked as though he had never wanted anything he had not been able to get, as though he had never worried about anything in his life. Yet sorrow had been his. He had buried the mother of his children. Probably had loved her dearly, and had lost her. Yet his blond good looks were untarnished.
    Now the road led them close to the lake. The sand of the shore came close to the road. The horses curved their polished necks and looked sideways at the dancing water. What if it should frighten them and they would run away — bolt! They picked up their iron hoofs, as though in astonishment; quiverings ran through the burnished hairs of their tails. The whistle of a train on a distant crossing made them prick their ears. A white-foamed wave tumbled up the shore. The horses threw themselves into frightening speed. Trees and fields flew by on the right, the vast expanse of the lake rocked itself on the left. Mary put out her hand and grasped the back of the seat in front of her. She could not restrain that gesture of alarm.
    Philip looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Feeling frisky,” he said. “Need more exercise.”
    “Papa, do let me drive!” Renny put his hands on the reins.
    “Oh, no — please!” Mary could not help herself. Meg turned a look of stolid scorn on her.
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