"Come, my lady," he said.
De Lacy made no move, nor spoke, but his eyes never left the Countess's face. And she, if she felt any irritation at the awkward situation so foolishly forced by Darby, concealed it completely and punished him with a smiling face.
"You may put me on Selim, Lord Darby," she said. "He has carried me part way home, and since he wishes it he shall carry me all the way."
Darby's dark face flushed and for a moment he drew back his hand in refusal—then quickly offered it again. But the delay lost him the favor; for De Lacy, seeing the opportunity, instantly presented his own palm, and the Countess accepted it, and he swung her to his saddle.
Then she looked at Darby. "If you are very good," she said, with a little laugh, "you may put me down at the castle."
And Darby laughed, too. "But you must give me time," he replied. "I am not so nimble as Selim's master."
And so they made their way back to Pontefract, De Lacy walking beside the Countess, and Lord Darby and Sir James Dacre following on horseback just behind. Wilda had evidently got down the hill unhurt; in the soft earth at its foot the deep marks of her running hoofs were very evident; and a little way from the castle they came upon her, calmly browsing beside the track. She had lost her bridle and her fright was quite gone—for she answered to the Countess's call, and permitted De Lacy to put a strap around her neck and make her captive.
As they crossed the drawbridge the Duke of Gloucester was standing near the gate tower and he called Lord Darby to him—and Dacre offering to take Wilda to the stables, Sir Aymer and the Countess were left to go on alone to the keep. As they drew up at the entrance, and the Countess shifted position in the saddle, she dropped her kerchief; De Lacy secured it and put it in his doublet, then reached up to lift her down.
She shook her head.
"The kerchief first," she said, with calm finality.