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quizzically at the location where the
pathway to the river started.
    “That looks as if it might be the
entrance to a pathway,” he said loudly as he gently patted his horse.
    “How could he possibly see that?”
she said mostly to herself because Pansy, like most horses, couldn’t talk. “The
trees and bushes are too thick.”
    Then he backed up and rode in a
circle to where he was about twenty feet away from the entrance to the path but
had his mount pointed straight at it.
    “What is he doing, Pansy?”
    Then she found out. He rushed
towards the path in a charge that would make any cavalry regiment proud,
crashing through the vegetation straight towards her. As he reached her he
reined his horse to a sudden halt.
    “Imagine meeting you here, Lady
Sibbridge.”
    Before she could rein herself in
she found herself saying: “I’m not Lady Sibbridge. My mother is Lady Sibbridge.
My father is Lord Sibbridge. My name is Amy.”
    Ben was a little surprised that she
had just surrendered her formality.
    “I’ll make a deal with you. I will
call you Amy if you call me Ben.”
    Before she could answer he coaxed
his horse in the direction of the River Arne. She followed slowly. She and
Pansy came alongside him as he looked intently at the river.
    “I’ve always loved the sound of a
river. I used to come here with my father when I was young. He was very much
involved in trade and we only occasionally came to Hillfield House. That is
likely when you were very small. Maybe it was before you were born. Then my
father went to India and left me with my uncle.”
    Amy had been studying Ben while he
was talking. She felt she had seen him someplace.
    “Have we ever met? I feel as if
I’ve seen you somewhere.”
    “Yes. We met last night at
Brewminster Hall.”
    “I don’t mean that! Had we ever met
before then?”
    “I probably just look familiar
because I’m Everyman. Just as the old morality plays says: My name is Everyman .”
    “If I saw you in London or Bath
that might be a possibility. Mother has only taken me to gatherings in London
for the last two years.”
    “Well I never go to gatherings in
either place if I can avoid them. I only went to the Brewminster’s last night
in order to be a good neighbor.”
    “I had to read Everyman and
I don’t remember these words.” said Amy as her thoughts drifted back to his
comment.
    “You do know that you seem to have
the tendency to resurrect parts of discussions that are already past?”
    “Let’s look at the old mill,” said
Amy intentionally changing the subject.
    “The river might be too deep to
cross.” Ben was clearly reluctant to cross over to the mill.
    “No it isn’t,” said Amy. “I can see
the bottom from here.”
    “I’m not so sure,” said Ben with a
grin she didn’t see, “sometimes water can look shallower than it really is.”
    “I can assure you that the river is
not too deep.” She shuddered as her recent experience at plumbing its depth
came back to mind.
    “I don’t think we should,” said
Ben. “The owner might not like it.”
    “Aren’t you the owner?”
    “I don’t know. I think my property
ends at the river. I’ll have to ask my uncle. My uncle and my father
practically grew up here, but as I said I’ve only been here a few times when I
was small and my father never brought me down here.”
    “Well, whoever owns it I’m sure he
wouldn’t care.” She nudged Pansy forward, but Ben reached out and caught her
reins.
    “I’d much prefer if we didn’t. I
don’t like to trespass on someone else’s land.”
    Ben’s reluctance didn’t make much
sense to Amy, but she went ahead and changed the subject as she turned Pansy
around and headed back through the trees and bushes to the road.
    “I’ve never seen Hillfield House
except from the distance.” Which was not entirely accurate. “Perhaps you will
do me the courtesy of allowing me to visit sometime,” she asked coyly.
    “You may visit me anytime if you
bring a