Her shaded eyes met mine with that mute question....
It seemed incredible to me she didn't remember.
"Well," said the earl and touched his horse.
Garvell was patting the neck of his horse, which was inclined to fidget,
and disregarding me. He nodded over his shoulder and followed. His
movement seemed to release a train of memories in her. She glanced
suddenly at him and then back at me with a flash of recognition that
warmed instantly to a faint smile. She hesitated as if to speak to me,
smiled broadly and understandingly and turned to follow the others.
All three broke into a canter and she did not look back. I stood for a
second or so at the crossing of the lanes, watching her recede, and then
became aware that my uncle was already some paces off and talking over
his shoulder in the belief that I was close behind. I turned about and
strode to overtake him. My mind was full of Beatrice and this surprise.
I remembered her simply as a Normandy. I'd clean forgotten that Garvell
was the son and she the step-daughter of our neighbour, Lady Osprey.
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