Bething's Folly
“A horse came to view through the trees, white with lather, laboring but still game. The rider jumped off when he neared the groom, not bothering to hand the reins over, just bounding up the wide steps to the double doors. The horse merely lowered its head; Carleton called back over his shoulder: “See you cool him off well and bed him down. He’s done a good job.” Then he pulled open the doors, not waiting for the butler or footmen, who were hurrying at the sound of visitors. He grasped the butler by his shoulders.“My father?”“His Grace is upstairs resting, Lord Alexander. Lady Claire is in her rooms. Mr. Campion, the doctor and Reverend Albright are in the blue parlour. Shall I—”But Carleton was past him, down the hall, throwing his wet, muddy coat over a gilded chair. He glanced into the door on his right where the three men were speaking in subdued voices over glasses of port, but he did not greet them. He looked up at the double-arched staircase, then bounded up the nearest flight.
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