Miss Grimsleys Oxford Career Read Free Page B

her head this way and that to survey the ravages of tears on her face.
    “You will look all of twenty, if you keep crying,” Ellen said, her face devoid of all expression.
    Horry gasped. “Twenty! Horrors!”
    “Twenty,” Ellen repeated, her voice firm. “Now, dry your eyes, Horry. I can solve this problem.”
    With a tight little nod and one last teary-eyed entreaty of her papa, Horatia summoned her little brother to help her from the room. She smiled bravely and allowed him to lead her away.
    The squire turned to his remaining daughter and grasped her by both hands. “Ellen, if you can carry this off, I will get you anything you want,” he declared.
    Ellen stood on tiptoe and kissed her tall parent's cheek.
    “Done, Papa, done. Better yet, I will return with two bottles of Fortaleza.”
    Papa closed his eyes in relief, hugging her to his ample chest. He picked up his riding crop again and dashed out the door, leaving it wide open. In another moment Ellen saw horse and rider thundering in the general direction of the last siren call of the hunting horn.
    Ralph returned and flopped down on the window seat. “El, they wear me out,” he complained when he could manage speech. “I think Horry is a perfect lamebrain to moon over that spotty Edwin. You would never do such a thing, would you?”
    She shook her head, the laughter back in her eyes.
    Ralph sat up, resting on one elbow. “Why did you promise Papa two bottles of that dratted sherry? You know that Aunt Shreve has not spoken to him since the reading of that will four years ago. When I was but a child,” he added.
    Ellen burst into laughter. “And what are you now, my dear?” she teased and took him by the hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come. Let us do our best.”
    It meant retracing their steps from manor to village again for the second time that morning, but neither Grimsley objected. The air was crisp with autumn; the tantalizing fragrance of burning leaves made brother and sister take a deep breath and sigh together.
    They looked at each other and laughed. There wasn't any need to speak; they understood the Grimsleys too well. Papa saw no further than hounds and horses; Mama darted from anxiety to crisis; Horry was twined all around herself and her darling noddy Edwin.
    “There is hope for Martha,” Ralph said finally, giving voice to what his sister was thinking. “We shall give her a few years and see if she improves.”
    “‘A few years,’ ” Ellen mimicked. “By then you will have abandoned me for Oxford and will not have a thought to spare for either sister!”
    “If Papa doesn't stick me in an office in the City with one of Mama's brothers first,” he said quietly and took her by the hand. “You know Gordon is supposed to be the Oxford-educated one.”
    They walked a moment in silence. Ralph squeezed her hand. “Whatever the outcome, I will always have a thought for you, El.”
    They continued in companionable silence.
And I for you
, Ellen Grimsley thought as she looked down at her little brother.
    He strode along at her side, his face half turned to the sun, a smile in his eyes. His hair looked as it always did, as if he had bounded out of bed, rushed to the stable, and combed it with a pitchfork.
    But his freckles were fading. Mama had remarked over breakfast only this morning that his wrists were shooting out of his cuffs and he was overdue a visit to Miss Simpson, who made all the children's clothes.
    Papa had come out of his hunting fog long enough to peer closer at his son. “Nay, wife, not this time,” he had boomed out. “’Tis time for Ralph to visit my tailor. He's too big to wear nankeen breeches anymore.”
    Ellen nodded, remembering the glow of pleasure on Ralph's face. Papa had noticed him. Perhaps when he wore long pants and a gentleman's riding boots, Papa would acknowledge that his younger son could be a scholar as well as a rider to hounds.
    On a day as glorious as this autumn morning, anything was possible,