Lady in the Veil Read Free Page A

meeting. He was waiting, dressed in his Sunday tweeds and riding breeches, looking as fine a
gentleman’s farmer as he could muster. They rode in silence to a path leading to a wooded glade where the old oak trees arched over making a frame for the horse and rider photograph. Miss
Dacre paused to dismount.
    ‘No, stay on. You must be in the frame too. Then your brother can see you both,’ he offered.
    ‘Just the horse. You can take one of me later, if you like.’
    Who was he to argue? He had chosen the spot with care, checked the light, brought his tripod and equipment beforehand. Everything must be perfect. He couldn’t wait to take her portrait, a
souvenir of this momentous day. Matt was satisfied with the angle of his pose. Hector was calm and curious and he knew one plate would come out well enough.
    ‘Please place yourself by the big tree,’ he asked his model. ‘That’s right, lean back and look at me. Don’t stiffen, be yourself . That’s better . . . I like
that.’ He wondered how he dared to speak to her like this, but he was in charge here and he wanted to capture that special stare he was getting to know so well.
    ‘I can’t wait to see them. Eliza, my sister, wouldn’t believe me when I told her how light can paint pictures too, better than any artist.’
    All too soon the light shifted as shadows drifted across the path, the session was at an end but neither of them was in a hurry to return. ‘Bring them as soon as you can,’ Mirabel
said. ‘I’m sure Papa will love to see them too but I must go or I will be missed. This will be our surprise for now,’ she smiled and her face lit up.
    He waved her away and rushed back to Yewbank to do his chores, knowing he would spend the evening in his makeshift dark room developing those images to his satisfaction. He stayed up half the
night. The horse had come out well enough but it was Miss Dacre’s face that took his breath away. She looked so composed, her eyes looking into the far distance with a dream-like quality.
    He knew he was already deeply in love with her beauty, her stillness, her courage. To have this permanent image of that wonderful afternoon was almost too much to bear.
    Oh yes, he knew in his heart she was far above him in her station but a man could dream, couldn’t he? There must be some way he could raise himself to be worthy of her hand but first he
must fulfil his promise and deliver the photographs to her. He would have that copy for himself. This was to be their secret and for a second he didn’t want to share these images with anyone
but her alone. Once they were delivered how could he ever meet up with her again?
    One Saturday afternoon he prepared to visit the Hall with his plates. They had made no firm arrangement about delivery but he hoped she was eager to see them. At first his
steps were bold and fast in the descent to Lawton and then he strolled through the village past the lychgate of St Peter’s church. He dawdled over the river bridge in the direction of Lawton
Hall, not sure which entrance to take through the arched gate. Would he catch a glimpse of Miss Dacre? One glance told him the stable yard and paths were not swept as well as their own yards. A
groom came out to greet him.
    ‘Now then, young Stockdale, what brings ’ee down these parts? Come a courtin’ Ellin Bargh in the kitchen?’ he laughed.
    ‘No,’ Matt blushed. ‘I’ve got a delivery for Miss Dacre,’ he stuttered.
    ‘Have you indeed? We’ll see about that. And what might your business be?’
    ‘It’s private. She will want to see me,’ he added, not sure now how to proceed.
    ‘Oh, I’m sure Miss Mirabel will want to see the likes of you farmers’ lads . . .’ the groom roared. ‘Hey up, lads! Young Matt has come a-courtin’ the
Squire’s daughter. He must be moon struck. It’s all that fresh air . . .’
    The men stood around gawping at him and Matt wanted to flee from their teasing. He was wrong to have come without