Mr. Dunkirk glanced sideways at Jane with understanding before suggesting that Beth ride to the fencerow ahead of them, and then come back to join their more sedate pace. She agreed at once.

Without waiting a moment, she urged her mare forward and widened the distance between them so suddenly that it seemed to Jane as if her own mount had begun to move backwards.

Mr. Dunkirk sighed. “I am glad to see her in such high spirits about the mare. I worry that she suffers in my absence. I cannot thank you enough for the kindnesses you have shown her.”

“You must believe that spending time with Beth is my pleasure.”

“She is a good girl.” He sighed again and watched the distant figure of his sister. “She has friends in the city whom I could invite to visit. Do you think that would be a good course?”

“Perhaps . . . or perhaps you might take Beth up to town with you on some trip.”

Beth turned back, her horse quickly depleting the distance and time in which Jane could have private conversation with Mr. Dunkirk.

“That is a thought. The families of some of Beth’s friends must be in town. Although our mother will have a fit if she is not allowed to bring Beth out in grand London style. I think Beth is too fragile for that.”

Though Jane longed to know why he thought Beth was fragile, she merely said, “Being in town does not mean she must be out. Numerous good people do not count such things as important.”

“Really?” Mr. Dunkirk said. “I am not certain I have met a young lady who is not vitally concerned with the minutiae of ‘out’ and ‘not out.’ I thought it was all that women talked of.”

“Oh yes, certainly. Of a certainty. Just as all men are only concerned with their pointers. Indeed, Mr. Dunkirk, I am surprized that you have been able to restrain yourself from giving me the distinguishing features of your pointers for so long as you have.”

He laughed, a deep and glorious laugh. “Ah, Miss Ellsworth. It is no wonder that you have done Beth so much good.”

And in the space where Jane’s answer would have been spoken, Beth thundered up to them, reining in her horse with enviable ease. “Llamrei! Her name is Llamrei, after King Arthur’s mare! And she is the most wonderful horse ever. We reached the hedgerow and I could feel that she wanted to jump, but we did not, though I wanted to as well. Oh, Edmund. She is glorious. I could not ask for a finer horse.”

Mr. Dunkirk affected a frown. “Beth, you will hurt poor Daisy’s feelings.”

“Poo! She is a nursemaid, not a horse.” Beth clasped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Jane, I did not mean to suggest . . .”

Jane laughed and forced herself to remove one hand from the reins so she could pat Daisy on the neck. “A nursemaid is precisely the horse for me. I am not the horsewoman that you are.”