3rd October, 1814: Visiting Torrington

"My lips are sealed," Vickery replied solemnly, though with a distinct gleam in his grey eyes. "I would hate to discomfit you in the presence of the fair Lady Isabella, after all."

Torrington nodded his concurrence with Vickery's promise, thinking that Bella would probably do that all by her self, if Willoughby's current behaviour was any indication.

"Should we then rejoin the ladies so that we can give ourselves the pleasure of asking them?", he suggested.

"Certainly - I am sure Emma will be very glad to play for you, especially if your pianoforte is as fine as you say," Vickery said, standing up and looking towards Willoughby.

"I hope it is to her liking and she has found some music that both she and my sister can enjoy."

Edward went to the door, giving Willoughby an encouraging smile.

"Come, Sir George! You have slain her dragon, don't you want to allow the lady to congratulate you?"

Standing as if lead balls had suddenly traded place with his shoes, Willoughby at final last abandoned his cup to follow the two men to the other room. Why were not women like horses? It was quite easy to approach one and, when a good horseman, to read its current emotions. The language of their ears, their posture, the ways their eyes would peer at the arrival, even the mouth, all felt like reading an open book. There was no way that he could equal Bella the sister of Torrington, to Bella the mare he had once ridden. One was a lady born and bred and living among the many walls of her family's estates, the other a wild spirit, without a brother that would brandish a sword if he had insomuch as gazed at her oddly.

Women. A far harder thing to conquer in understanding and carrying a conversation with, than a horse! Thought like a true cavalryman.

[The gentlemen go to here.]