It took the best part of an hour before I could approach closely enough to touch him. He was jittery and I was wary of being bitten again. But the longer I spent with him, the calmer he grew. When I finally lay down in the straw in Velvet’s box, I hoped it had been time well spent.
I woke in the early morning to find Velvet standing over me nuzzling me, blowing in my hair. I laughed sleepily and pushed his head away. He snorted, turned back and lipped my ear playfully.
‘That’s enough, you,’ I said, rubbing my sleeve over my face and yawning. I stroked the horse’s nose affectionately. Then I realized there was someone watching me.
‘Mr Lawrence,’ I said, appalled, scrambling to my feet, trying to brush straw out of my hair. ‘I didn’t see … didn’t realize … ’
‘Good morning, Charlie,’ he responded, completely relaxed. ‘Thank you for guarding my horse. I wanted a quiet word with you.’ He paused as though uncertain how to continue then finally said: ‘Bridges is bound to resent you at first, Charlie. At present, he neither wants to retire nor understands the need for it. He’s been a loyal and trustworthy servant and I don’t want his feelings hurt. I rely on you to win him over as skilfully as you have won over my horses.’
‘I’m not sure I’m as good with people as I am with horses,’ I admitted ruefully.
‘I’m beginning to see that,’ replied Lawrence. His eyes rested on my new bruises. I lifted a hand to touch my sore cheekbone and blushed at the appearance I must present.
‘Do you want to explain this latest to me?’ Lawrence asked sternly. I shook my head. I peeped up at him nervously and was relieved to see smile creases in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t really angry. The irony of acquiring a reputation for brawling wasn’t lost on me. A small answering smile crept onto my own face. I winced as it hurt my bruised cheek.
Mr Lawrence gave me a nod, and left, presumably to be served his breakfast. I turned to Velvet and patted him. ‘Let’s get you groomed and presentable for the day then, shall we, boy?’ I asked him. He twitched his ears and nudged me by way of response.
Our last stop was the bustling city of Bath with its sandstone buildings and bustling, narrow streets. How I’d longed to visit it when we first returned to England and how different was my actual arrival. Instead of entering the city as a young lady with expectations of pleasure, I clung to the back of a chaise, soaked through and grimy, my bitten arm and bruised face aching. My hair was hacked short and I was dressed in boy’s working clothes.
Up to now, I’d been so grateful to have escaped death and to have found work to keep myself from destitution that I’d dwelled little on my losses. But the bustling city, thronged with sedan chairs and filled with elegant ladies in beautiful gowns, and gentlemen gorgeously attired in bright colours, brought my fallen fortunes home to me in the most brutal way possible.
My father wouldn’t have been able to afford the best lodgings or the finest gowns for me, not even before things began to go wrong for him, but I would at least have been respectably, perhaps even prettily, clad. I would have come here for parties, not hard work.
I roamed the streets for the hour or so I had free while Mr Lawrence transacted some business. I watched the street sellers hawking their wares, saw a pickpocket at work and clutched my own meagre purse tightly to me. I watched stray dogs picking over piles of rubbish in the street.
There were sites where stylish new town houses, grand squares, and wide streets were under construction, extending the city to the north and west. Sedan chairs passed me, carrying elegant gentry to their places of amusement, and I cast them longing glances. But that life was no longer for me. I must be grateful for what I had.
The Lansdown Road out of the Bath was steep and rutted. Lawrence took it at a steady walk, allowing the horses to pace themselves without actually stopping on the sharp incline. When we reached the top, a magnificent landscape burst upon us; the rolling downs and far views drew a gasp of admiration from me. The country was verdant, with tall trees just bursting into leaf. Lawrence half turned to me as he drove.
‘Nearly home now, Charlie,’ he said. ‘Just a few more miles.’ He was smiling and I could tell the view pleased him too, though it must be a familiar sight. ‘All this land belongs to Lord Rutherford’s estate,’ Lawrence added, with a casual wave of his hand.
We drove up and down the rolling downs for another half an hour or so before Lawrence turned the weary horses to the left and allowed them to slow to a walk. Before us were shining new lodge gates. At the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel, they were quickly thrown open to welcome us by a man with a beard and battered cap on his head. A woman with wispy grey hair escaping from a bun emerged from the neat new lodge cottage beside the gates. She was hastily removing a floury apron and bobbed a curtsey when she saw us.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Saunders, Mr Saunders,’ said Lawrence with a friendly nod to the couple as he tightened his hold on the reins, drawing the horses to a halt beside the woman. ‘I hope I find you both well?’
‘Very well, thank you, sir,’ the woman replied. ‘I hope you had a good journey?’
She darted a curious glance at me as she spoke, and froze, the colour leaving her cheeks. I squirmed uncomfortably. The chaise started again with a jolt and rolled forward. I cast a quick glance back to see the woman still standing on the carriageway, watching us. Her mouth was agape and one hand was clutching her chest.
Did she think it strange that Lawrence had picked up a guttersnipe and brought him home? Is that what all the people here would think of my arrival? I must certainly look disreputable with my dirty clothes and bruised, cut face. I was nervous, now that we were so nearly there, about meeting so many new people.
The ground fell away before us revealing a vast, cultivated park. In the distance I could see a herd of deer grazing. Ahead of us, nestled in the landscape like a precious gem, was a magnificent honey-coloured house with a grand facade filled with huge windows over three floors and topped with balustrades. I thought I’d never seen anything so beautiful.
Mr Lawrence must have heard my sharp intake of breath, for he glanced briefly over his shoulder. He was smiling slightly.
‘You approve of your new home then?’ he asked.
‘How could I not?’ I responded, still awed by the sight. Bridges sat silent at his master’s side. It occurred to me to wonder what his fate was to be, if Lawrence considered him too old to work much longer. Was he perhaps to be banished from this place that he had learned to love? If so, I had my first inkling of why he might feel resentment towards me.
‘What about you, Pitch?’ Mr Lawrence asked the stallion. The stallion’s ears flickered as though he knew he was being addressed. ‘This is where you’ll be living from now on,’ Lawrence continued. ‘So I hope you’ll settle in too and unlearn your less appealing tricks. I’m relying on you two, Bridges and Charlie, to teach him better.’
I smiled at the prospect of working with the magnificent stallion, but Bridges responded with a stiff half bow and a reproachful look at his master.
Mr Lawrence chuckled, not noticing his servant’s resentment. ‘He’s too tired to make much trouble now,’ he remarked. He steadied the horses, slowing their pace as we followed the sweep of the wide carriageway down the contours of the hill towards the house. The whole valley sloped towards the house which dominated the view. The sun was setting to the left behind the vast building and, as we dropped down closer to it, I could see it was all very new. The honey stone was newly cut and bright, the edges sharp and free from creepers or weathering. The house looked almost as new as the half-built houses at the Bath had looked. ‘It's all been newly built in the latest style,’ Lawrence explained. ‘And the park fashionably landscaped. His Lordship felt in need of a large project.’
To our right, a stream flowed down towards the house, cascading from one pool to the next. The grounds had been arranged formally but with great elegance. Before the house lay a neatly-scythed lawn. A gardener worked to one s
ide of it, tending rose bushes in the evening sunshine. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the number of staff they must need to run a house and park on this scale.
The carriageway reached level ground in front of the house, swept to the left through wrought iron gates and then to the right again along the front of the stable block. Mr Lawrence slowed the horses again for a sharp left-hand turn through an archway to a courtyard. The surface here was cobbled and the horses’ hooves clattered on the stones.
Before us was a large block of stalls ending in another archway that led through into more gardens. I caught a glimpse of another lawn and shrubbery beyond the arch in the setting sun. To my left and behind me were loose boxes. Several horses looked curiously over their half-doors at us.
The yard was swept and clean, free of the clutter and dirt that clogged most inn yards. Two smart-looking grooms emerged from a doorway and came towards the carriage. I noted they looked well-dressed, well-fed, and alert, and my hopes for life at this place rose still higher.
I jumped down from my perch the moment the carriage drew to a stop, but the grooms in the yard were quicker. Pitch threw up his head in indignation as they approached him and, despite his tiredness, backed up, ears flat, preparing to fight.
‘Wait!’ Mr Lawrence called, tightening his hands on the reins. ‘This new horse is unpredictable. Let Charlie see to him.’
The grooms fell back as I stepped forward, letting the stallion see me before I approached him. His head dropped when he realized it was me. The time I’d spent with him over the past couple of days was beginning to pay off.
‘Take care of Charlie, won’t you Bridges?’ Lawrence said as he got down from the carriage. ‘Show him the ropes!’ He turned to me. ‘You’re in good hands, Charlie. See you soon!’
He left us to unharness his horses and strode off through the archway to the adjoining main house. I felt friendless and forlorn to see him go, but threw myself into the work of rubbing down the weary horses while the other grooms prepared the stable for the new acquisitions. When Pitch was ready, Bridges led him into a loose box and then returned for Velvet. I stood back, pleased with my work as Bridges untethered him. The horse was shining and magnificent; worthy of these fine stables.
I gathered up the brushes as Bridges led the horse away, then waited for him to return, but he did not. I couldn’t see anyone at all now.
‘Bridges?’ I said tentatively, walking to the stables. I went right up to the loose-box door. Velvet stood with his rump towards me, munching hay contentedly. He was alone. I looked over the neighbouring loose-box door and Pitch flattened his ears, stirring restlessly in the strange surroundings. Bridges wasn’t with him either. He’d left me alone.
I stood feeling foolish. I had no idea where to go. Where was I to sleep? Was there food? I’d eaten nothing but an apple since breakfast. Who would show me around and tell me my duties? The grooms who had appeared when we arrived had pulled the chaise into the coach house and vanished. My satchel lay just inside the door of the main stable block, but there was no other sign that I belonged here. I swallowed hard and picked it up. I walked over to what I guessed was the tack room, looking for someone to ask. The sound of cheerful whistling from within heartened me. Peeping around the door, I saw a red-haired lad with a freckled face and blue eyes polishing the harness from the carriage. He looked up as my shadow fell over him and grinned at me, revealing a broken front tooth and a dimple in each grubby cheek.
‘Lookin’ for work to do?’ he asked with a cheeky smile.
I stepped into the room and picked up a rag. ‘By all means,’ I said. I was dead tired, but some friendly company was most welcome.
‘I were only joking,’ replied the boy looking a little startled as I sat down beside him. ‘This is my work.’
‘It’s no problem. What’s your name? I’m Charlie.’
‘Heard that. You’re to be trained as Mr Lawrence’s new personal groom, huh? Plenty of us would have fancied that position.’
My hands, which had already picked up a bit to clean, fell limply into my lap. ‘Will everyone resent me then?’ I asked timidly. ‘Bridges already does.’
‘Ha! Won’t accept he’s past it. He’ll get over it. He’s not a bad sort, really. The lad grinned again. ‘I’m Ben.’
‘Hello Ben, pleased to meet you,’ I said with a smile.
We worked side by side for a few moments in silence. Eventually I got up the courage to ask: ‘So where do we get meals here?’
‘The kitchen maids bring over pots and pans for us to the room next to this. We dish up there.’
‘Not welcome in the house then?’ I said, remembering life at the inn.
‘Whiff of the stables an’ all that,’ said Ben with a comical grimace. ‘They thinks theirselves a cut above us lot, the house servants. More refined,’ he added in a mock genteel voice, holding up his nose.
I chuckled and felt the tension in me lessen. I rubbed at the leather harness for a few more minutes and then yawned.
‘Dinner’s served when the stable clock strikes six,’ Ben told me. ‘Then we got to feed and water all the horses and check ’em afore we get to turn in. And I got to finish this harness first an’ all.’
By the time the clock struck, we’d cleaned the entire harness. I was so tired I stumbled wordlessly after Ben, and barely knew how to eat my stew and dumplings. The small, crowded room where the men and boys who worked in the stables enjoyed their dinner was noisy with chatter and laughter. Everyone was friendly and introduced themselves to me, though their names and faces blurred before my weary eyes. There was a Joe and a Peter around my own age as well as Ben, all loud and cheerful, and several men besides. The contrast with the John of Gaunt couldn’t have been greater. Despite my weariness, I felt at home here at once.
I got through my evening duties somehow, but the moment I’d taken a blanket off the pile in the stables that evening and laid down in the straw, I was deeply asleep.
Ben shook me awake the next morning. It took me a moment to remember where I was. The stable yard was already bustling. I could see from the stable clock high on the tower that it was just after six. Two horses had already been led out of their stalls and were standing in the yard being groomed. Stable boys were mucking out the stalls or boxes, carting the soiled straw to a towering midden in the corner of the yard. I looked at Ben enquiringly. ‘What am I to do?’
‘Bridges has put you on mucking-out duty,’ said Ben. ‘Why don’t you take Belle’s box? Bring her out and tie her out here for grooming first.’ He pointed the way.
I headed across the yard to the loose box he indicated. I wondered what kind of horse answered to the name of Belle. It sounded like a lady’s horse. A showy, spoiled pet, perhaps. I imagined her grey, with some Arab blood. None of my idle imaginings prepared me for the sight that met my eyes when I peeped over the stable door.
In the gloom of the loose box stood the most beautiful horse I’d ever laid eyes on. She was a dark, glossy bay, with a gleaming black mane and a shining tail that almost swept the ground. Her hide was a rich, burnished red-brown, darkening to black on her legs. Everything about her was elegant and beautiful. She was sheer perfection from the tip of her pricked ears to her neat hooves.
I caught my breath. For a mad instant, I’d thought it was my own Mahogany, whom I’d had to leave behind in America. The parting had almost broken my heart. But, I had to confess, this horse was far finer. My father could never have afforded such a magnificent creature. This horse had thoroughbred blood, I was sure. Arab too, by the look of that beautiful arched neck.
I stood staring, lost in admiration. The mare looked back at me from dark, liquid eyes. She arched her neck and blew out through her nostrils. Spellbound, I unlatched the half-door of the stable and stepped into the loosebox. I approached the mare cautiously, reverently, but she was perfectly relaxed and friendly, stepping forward and nosing me in search of some treat. Sorry I had nothing for her, I stroked the horse’s glossy neck. She
was in tip-top condition; gleaming with health and vitality.
‘So you are Belle,’ I said softly to her. She pricked her ears forward, looking at me endearingly from intelligent, kind eyes.
Belle was already wearing a halter. A leading rope hung on the wall near the door. I unhooked it, clipped it on to her halter and led her out into the yard. She stepped out beside me, so light on her hooves it seemed as though she were dancing.
I tethered her in the yard and continued to pet her, quite forgetting I had work to do, until Ben called me away, a spade in each hand.
‘What a beauty!’ I exclaimed.
He grinned. ‘A costly piece of horseflesh,’ he agreed. ‘You wouldn’t believe the long price his lordship paid for her.’
‘Does he hunt her?’ I asked. Her delicate good looks and her name still made me think her a lady’s ride.
‘Lord love you, no,’ said Ben, shaking his head and accompanying me into Belle’s loosebox, where he threw me one of the spades he carried. ‘Clean straw this side, soiled the other,’ he said. ‘I’m to show you how we muck out here.’
I nodded, my mind still on Belle, as I raked out the soiled straw and piled it on one side. I looked questioningly at him.
‘Belle belongs to Miss Judith,’ he said. ‘Or she will do when … ’
‘Less chit chat in here and more work,’ interrupted a stern voice from the open doorway. A shadow fell across me and I jumped and flinched, afraid of a blow. When I dared looked up, I saw a smart-looking groom with neat whiskers looking down at me. He was tall and spare with something of a military air about him, which made me warm to him at once.
‘You’re the new boy,’ he stated, looking distinctly unimpressed.
‘I know,’ I replied cheekily.
Instead of lashing out, he grinned at me. ‘I’m Steele. I’m the head groom here. Lawrence might have employed you, but you will need to prove yourself to me. You look a skinny little excuse for a stable lad. Get this box done! No slacking! There are three more to do before you get your breakfast.’
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