Page 82 of Henrietta

Realising the truth of this, Timothy turned once more to Mr Hargan. ‘You should have inspected the weapons! Awfully shoddy behaviour, you know.’

‘Not the thing,’ Corky agreed. ‘When one considers how simple the job is!’

‘Oh, I like that!’ Mr Hargan, slow to temper usually, fired up. ‘Well, next time, you can do it!’

‘There will be no next time.’ Arthur looked them each square in the eye. ‘There will be no duelling, ever again. Next time you fall out with each other, have it out at Jackson’s by all means – but if I discover you have ever done anything such as this again, I will shoot you all myself. Am I understood?’

Resembling less the pinks of the ton they purported to be and more a group of shame-faced schoolboys, the four agreed they did – and Arthur, after warning Timothy that there would be further discussion needed later, stalked back to his horse – who had blessedly not fled in all the commotion – swung himself into the saddle, and rode away.

In the quiet left behind, the four friends looked at one another, rather deflated – Allerton’s castigation had recast the whole expedition into a rather more shameful light. They were not, however, the sort to remain downcast for long.

‘You know, the Pelican serves a rather superior breakfast,’ Mr Whitfield put in after a pause. ‘Oughtn’t be more than a quarter of an hour that way.’

This was felt by all to be rather a good idea, and – brightening – they headed off down the hill in the opposite direction.

Arthur wound his way back through the trees more carefully this time. He was not expecting to see anybody else at such an hour. It was with some surprise, then, that he quickly came upon another rider.

It was with more surprise that he saw it was Hetty.

‘Good morning, Arthur,’ she greeted him rather sheepishly.

For a moment, Arthur was not sure that he had not gone entirely mad. He blinked as if to clear his eyes. ‘What are you – are you here for Timothy?’

‘I thought it best,’ Hetty said. ‘Though’, she added, rather indignantly, ‘they might have said they were going to delope! After all that effort convincing Hargan to remove the bullets!’

Arthur stared. ‘That was you?’

Hetty gave him as brief an account of affairs as possible. ‘So they were never in any true danger,’ she concluded, ‘though I thought I ought to observe, just in case.’

Her knowledge of the characters of Timothy, Corky and Mr Hargan had not in any way given her confidence that, even with the guns this inhibited, the matter was immune from danger. Therefore she had made her way to the heath on horseback, waiting in the trees near to the figure of the surgeon Hargan had requisitioned for the assignation. One never knew: perhaps Corky had brought his own guns, or perhaps, unable to attempt to kill one another by one method, they might resort to more primal forms of combat.

‘How could you not come to me with this?’ Arthur demanded. ‘Our friendship is surely not so broken as that, surely, Hetty – my brother—’

‘I wanted to!’ she assured him hastily. ‘I did! But Timothy made me promise.’

Arthur clenched his jaw, raising his head towards the sky. He did not have a good rebuttal to this – he would never want someone to break their word but in circumstances such as this, surely …

‘I would have done,’ Hetty assured him. ‘If I had not found a way to solve it I would have done. But I did not need to,’ she added crisply. ‘I had everything in hand.’

She said this without any doubt in her voice and he let out a breath. ‘You did not need me at all,’ he realised.

‘No,’ she admitted rather apologetically. ‘I did not.’

All of a sudden, she looked nothing like the lost lamb who had first arrived at Belcourt. Nothing at all.

‘Are you – do you ride home?’ she asked. ‘Shall we go together?’

Arthur assented. Together, they turned their horses. They kept a comfortable pace, at first, but the heath was looking so magnificent in the dawn – the pink skies above, the city smoking gently in the distance – and Hetty was suddenly so unaccountably relieved to have the duel behind her, that it was abruptly and entirely unbearable to ride so sedately. She glanced at Arthur and asked impulsively, ‘Shall we stretch their legs?’

She was gone before he had chance to reply, and Arthur gave immediate chase. Giving his own mare her head, he was abreast of Hetty’s bay in only a few moments, Hetty urged her mare into a gallop, and he did the same. Down the heath the two raced the horses, turf flying up all around them.

‘To the bridge?’ Hetty called over the sound of the pounding hooves.

Arthur shouted back his agreement. ‘What will you wager?’

‘Whatever you like!’

They flew on, side by side, as the bridge came closer, and for the longest while it seemed as if it would indeed be a draw. Until, at the last moment, Arthur urged his grey to lengthen her stride. For a moment or two Hetty’s bay kept abreast, but Arthur’s mare had two inches on her, and this advantage could not be overcome. He drew ahead, and checked his mare just as they reached the bridge, where she tossed her head in excitement, frothing at the bit. Hetty caught up a breath later, reining in hard. Hetty’s cheeks were glowing, her eyes bright, and as well as all her new gowns suited her, it was this Hetty that Arthur liked best.