And here he was, in Virginia, behaving like a fool in hot pursuit of a delightful rump as it bounced ahead of him and, dear Christ, went over a hedge!
'God's bones,' he swore, recalling his mother's adage that pride invariably preceded a fall. There was no need for fate to be so literal, he thought desperately as the hedge drew rapidly closer. And then with a sense of mounting panic he realized it was not a hedge. This was not enclosed England, but wide and wonderful Virginia. He was confronted by a row of bushes which, he realized with sudden certainly, ran alongside a little brook. He was too late to rein in; he felt the mare gather herself and, at the last moment, remembered to lean forward. The mare crashed through the brushwood and stretched herself for the brook beyond. He saw the bright flash of water and then his whole frame shook as the mare landed and the bony structure of her shoulders steadied and received his weight. The horse stumbled, recovered, and began to pant as it breasted the rising ground beyond the brook. Relieved, Drinkwater took stock of his surroundings. Mistress Shaw had halted her horse on the summit of the hill. He pulled up alongside her.
'You promised me ...' he panted.
'A docile mount, not an easy ride,' she laughed, cutting him short.
'Thank God your horse knows the lie of the land.'
'Betsy would die rather than throw you,' she said, leaning forward and affectionately patting his mount on her neck. The mare whinnied softly and the chestnut threw up his own head and jingled a protest at this favouritism.
For a moment they sat on their horses and regarded the view in silence. Drinkwater was surprised how far and how high they had come. He could see the roof of Castle Point, and beyond, on the silver-grey waters of the Potomac, the two ships with the bright spots of their rival ensigns at their sterns.
'They look so insignificant from here, don't they,' she said. It was not a question, nor could he argue with the fact.
'They are,' he said suddenly, and the sense of liberation the words gave amazed him. In a sudden impulsive movement he had jerked Betsy's head round to the west and kicked his unspurred heels into her flanks. Without looking back he worked the mare up to a gallop, dropping down towards more trees on the far side of the hill.
She watched him for a moment, holding her own restively eager horse in check until the foam flew from its mouth. Her heart was hammering inexplicably and she knew her hesitation was useless; yet she felt compelled to wait, not knowing the reason for this foolishness. When she could stand it no longer, she gave a yelp, flicked the reins and let the chestnut have its head.
The two ships were instantly hidden behind the summit.
'You remind me of a magnolia we have at home,' he said. 'It grows against a south-facing wall and produces flowers of a singular loveliness.'
'We have them here in Virginia,' she said, blushing and busying herself with the game pie. 'Do you open this.'
He sat up and took the bottle and corkscrew while she knelt and laid two plates upon the spread cloth.
'You have more than a magnolia at home, Captain,' she said pointedly, after a long pause, her voice strained.
'And still you remind me of it,' he said, placing the uncorked bottle on a level corner of the cloth, 'magnolia, home and beauty.'
'Have you killed, Captain?' she asked suddenly, looking at him squarely, her expression intent.
'In cold blood, or action?' he prevaricated, wondering why she had so cruelly turned his love-making aside.
'Does it matter?'
He shrugged. 'Perhaps not to you…'
'You men think by setting such moral questions in grades of dreadfulness to make them acceptable.'
'I am somewhat wearied of moral judgements being made against me today. You are not the first woman to ask that question of me. I am a sea-officer, for better or worse. I have my duty.'
'Does it not bother your conscience that you murder with some proficiency?'
'Of course; but adultery is a sin as proscribed as murder, madam, yet is indulged in with little thought by people who do not conceive themselves as wicked. It has been a matter of amazement to me that one who moralizes about the evils of the latter can so easily practise the former. I am a sinner, but hesitate to throw stones.'
She had coloured and bit her lip, then said, 'I had not expected such flippancy.'
'Would you have me bare my soul to a stranger?'
'Perhaps,' she said, looking at him again, 'the stranger would wish to be otherwise.' She poured the wine into two glasses and handed him one.
'And what would the stranger be? An adulterer, or merely a magnolia?'
'Perhaps both.'
Later she propped herself on an elbow and looked down at him as he stared impassively at the clouds moving slowly above the trees.
'You regret what has happened, don't you, Nathaniel?' He remained silent, staring upwards. 'Do not, I beg you, if only for my sake. For you 'twas but a riot in the blood.'
He turned and looked at her, and saw her eyes were brim full of tears.
'I think we are both too old for such ... such rioting to be passed over thus easily.'
'It doesn't signify ...'
'On the contrary,' he said gently, 'even madness has its own place under heaven.'
'Do you feel any different now?'
He smiled sadly. 'Not all men spend in the same manner as they piss, Arabella. Perhaps I wish I did, it would make my infidelity the easier to bear.'
'I do not think', she said, her voice trembling, 'you should reproach yourself. I am not...'
He took her hand and smiled at her. The boyish attractiveness had gone, replaced by something she could not describe, but which would, she knew with the certainty of true foreboding, haunt her future loneliness. 'My darling ...' she breathed.
They arrived back at Castle Point at sunset. As they approached, walking their horses for fear they might arrive too soon, yet both aware their arrival was inevitable, the sound of shots rang out. Seized by a sudden awful thought that his absence had precipitated wholesale desertion, he pushed the mare forward until he saw Moncrieff's scarlet coat floundering through a reedbed waving a duck above his head. Relieved, he watched the wildfowling party which appeared to consist of Moncrieff, Metcalfe and Davies, one of the master's mates, until Arabella drew level with him.
'They are fowling,' he said, 'I hope with your father-in-law's permission.'
'You are forgetting me already,' she reproached him.
'When I heard those shots I feared for my life,' he remarked grimly, then turned towards her. Her hair was dishevelled and her cheeks were wet with tears. 'My dear,' he said, his voice thick with emotion, 'you make me reproach myself... please, do not cry, I am not worth it.'
She sniffed noisily. 'We must ride back to the house. Let us at least look as if the day was enjoyable.' And she drove her spurs into the chestnut's flanks so that the galled horse reared up and then leapt forward into a gallop.
Drinkwater followed as best he could, but she was already dismounting as he drew rein in the gravelled courtyard before the stables. The negro groom was rubbing down a large black stallion and, as the horses whinnied at each other and the stallion stamped, Zebulon Shaw came towards them.
'Bella ... Captain Drinkwater, I trust you enjoyed your excursion.' He clapped his hands and a little negro stable-boy ran out and took the two bridles. Shaw spoke to his daughter-in-law and she turned to her guest.