Beth must be a younger version of his mother.
That was the conclusion Charles arrived at when the carriage pulled up at Carlisle Crest. He took his time getting out of it, positively marvelled at how much the mansion had changed in the short while he was away.
The hedges had been trimmed to another pattern, the main door had a wreath on it, the windows were all opened and the fountain had a vine twined around the statue. She must possess his mother's spirit when preparation was involved.
A neighing horse drew his attention and he turned to the mare being led out into the fields. Clover. She was a calm, obedient horse who was as spirited as a freeman. She would accord you control until she felt you no longer deserved it. She took off running as soon as she was let off her leash, sprinting through the open fields, glad to be free.
Beth wanted to be free. Like the mare she must feel caught on a leash. She must want her freedom as desperately too, he thought.
