Page 38 of Her Wily Duke

Surely, the grooms cared for the horse? And there was no reason for Adam to be going out riding, right now, was there?

She turned back, and leant against the wall, just below what appeared to be a piece of wall, high up, that could be propped open for airflow. Adam’s voice came to her, only a little muffled by the wall between them.

“Hard as it is to believe, I really am going to miss my brother,” Adam spoke as he and Walham stood in the small stable together “In a sense, he is responsible for bringing Emme and I together.”

“His rule here was hard on everyone,” said Walham. “I’m sorry to see him die, but I’m not sorry to see him go.”

“I know what you mean,” said Adam with a gloomy sigh. “And now I’m afraid that there’s someone else we must say goodbye to.”

“Are you ready, then?” asked Walham.

Adam sounded solemn when he responded.

“I’m ready.”

She frowned at the strange words, but kept listening. It sounded to Emme as if they kept on walking, further into the small building, and across to the half door which opened to the small pasture where the stallion was.

“You’ll always be my favourite horse, Triumphant.”

Adam’s voice was soft, affectionate, and Emme could imagine him extending his hand and stroking that white star on the horse’s forehead.

The horse nickered agreeably, and she was sure that her imagination was correct. Needing to know more, she crept around to the side where the door into the building was, and, greatly daring, looked around the edge, just in time to see Adam and Walham go through another door, into a small room at the back of the building, after Walham had produced a key and unlocked it.

Moments later, they came out again, Adam carrying an old leather bag from which he pulled what looked to be miscellaneous items of clothing, and some other wrapped things.

From those he extracted what looked, to Emme’s eyes, like a brush and a pot of black paint.

At that sight, it was as if all of the pieces of a puzzle fell together in Emme’s mind, and she nearly laughed – at herself, for having taken so long to realise, and at the delightful cleverness of her husband, who, for all of this time, had managed to deceive everyone, all for the purposes of helping those who relied upon Foxridge Park.

Her eyes went back to the half door opposite, where the stallion’s head reached in, sniffing at the surroundings, obviously hoping for a treat. The light caught on the white star on his forehead, and she nodded to herself. It would take very little in the way of paint, or a paste of watered soot, to cover that little star and the small amount of white on his feet. And with that, he would be a pure black horse… just like the one that the Wily Black Fox rode, the one of which everyone had said ‘there was no horse like that in the district’.

She had, it seemed, married a very wily Duke.

She shifted back, beginning to retreat, as she heard Adam speak again.

“Do you think that you can guarantee that no one will ever find these?” Adam asked.

Walham gave a soft laugh.

“Your Grace,” he said, “they will never be seen again.”

Emme smiled to herself as she slipped away – there was no reason that Adam need ever know that she had discovered his secret – and all of the good deeds that it implied. It was obvious that Walham was a very good friend to him indeed, not just in what he was about to do, but also, in the matter of a certain sighting of the Masked Rider, on one very specific afternoon – for how else could that have been done, when Adam had been right there with Emme, driving the curricle?

She hurried back up the lane, and only stopped once she reached the main stables, where she spent some time talking to the small number of horses who were in the stalls.

Soon, Adam and Walham appeared, Walham with the old leather bag slung casually over his shoulder, and looked startled to see her.

“Emme, why are you out here? Is there something wrong?”

“No, not at all – I just wanted to escape the dust in the long unused rooms for a while – but I seem to have exchanged it for horse hair and hay dust instead!”

“You’d best come inside then, and perhaps change into something less dusty. Mrs Miltwood will expect both of us to be at least respectably dressed for dinner!”

She turned with Adam, and they went back into the house, leaving Walham behind in the stables, after one significant glance passed between him and Adam.

And from that day forward, it was obvious to Emme that Walham had been true to his word – a certain old leather bag, and whatever it contained, was never seen again, anywhere.

Neither was the Masked Rider or Wily Black Fox, whatever name you might choose to call him.

Epilogue

In the days and years to come, Adam and Emme were wonderfully happy together. Even when they had been married for many years and Emme had borne three children (a girl and two boys) they continued to drive their carriage through the country, alone and in all weathers, much to the despair of their coachman.

Under Adam’s leadership, Foxridge Park flourished. The tenants, who had given indications of wanting to revolt under his brother, settled into a peaceful contentedness. Adam implemented more and more of the new farming techniques which he had learned from Thomas Coke and others, and the crop yields each following autumn were more plentiful than the preceding year, more so than they had ever been.

The tale of the second rampage of the highwayman called the Wily Black Fox passed into local legend, spoken of in dramatic terms in the Black Fox pub by the old men, who swore they knew more of him than they would ever tell.

Perhaps they did.

The End