Riding In the Sky

by Barbara Cartland

  Then he said,

  “Tell me the way to the Racecourse.”

  A footman pointed out the way they should go and added,

  “You’ll find ’is Lordship there, sir.”

  The trunks were carried away and Mark turned the horses and set off in the direction of the Racecourse.

  Filipa had expected it to be a small course and that so early in the morning only a few people would be present.

  She was therefore surprised when they moved across the Park and through a wood, to find that the course was very much larger than she had expected.

  There were a number of movable jumps so that the races could either be on the flat or changed to a steeplechase.

  Even though it was so early in the day, there was already a large number of spectators who must have come from all over the County.

  At one point of the course it was easy to see a group of the Marquis’s friends.

  All mounted on extremely fine specimens of horseflesh, they were very smart. They wore their high hats at an angle on their heads, which made them look outrageously dashing.

  Mark drew his chaise up beside the railings, a little away from where the men on horses were to be seen.

  He said to Filipa as he handed the reins to his groom,

  “You stay here while I go and see what is happening.”

  He walked away, cutting, Filipa thought proudly, as fine a figure as any of his friends.

  It was sad that he only had one horse to ride and she supposed that the Marquis and most of his friends would have several so that they could take part in more than one race.

  What she wanted was to inspect Hercules, as Mark had said his horse was called.

  She also wanted to inspect the horse she was to ride before they put on their fancy dress.

  Yet she knew that it was wise for her to let Mark do things in his own way.

  She must not suggest anything that might be different from what everyone else was doing.

  She saw him reach the group of riders and start talking to them.

  Suddenly she was aware that a man on a very large stallion was riding from the other side of the course.

  There was no need for anyone to tell her that this was the Marquis and she looked at him with curiosity.

  Then she knew, just from the way he was riding, that he was exactly as Mark had described him to her.

  She was too experienced a rider herself not to realise that there was something unique in the way he seemed part of his horse.

  Although he was moving quite fast, it seemed entirely effortless.

  The way he sat, the way he held his reins, even the way he held his head, she thought was a perfect example of what a man should look like on a horse.

  She watched him wide-eyed until he pulled in his mount beside Mark.

  He greeted him and, after they had talked for a few minutes, Mark came hurrying back to the chaise.

  He climbed in, took the reins from the groom, turned the horses and started to hurry back the way they had come through the Park.

  “Where are we going? What has happened?” Filipa asked.

  “Somebody has fallen out in the first race,” Mark replied, “and the Marquis has offered me one of his horses so that I can take part.”

  “Oh, Mark, how exciting for you!”

  “That is what I thought.”

  “Shall I be able to watch you?” Filipa enquired.

  “I think you had better get changed,” Mark replied. “Whatever happens you must not be late for the special race we are taking part in.”

  He paused a moment and then added,

  “If I know anything about women, you will take the devil of a time decking yourself out.”

  Filipa wanted to say that it was something she never did. In fact she usually managed to dress herself in ten minutes, but she thought it would be a mistake to argue.

  She merely said,

  “I will wait for you in the hall. But I hope I will not have to meet many people without your being there.”

  It struck Mark that it would be a mistake and he said quickly,

  “What you must do is go up to your bedroom, rest and get dressed slowly. We are going to meet in the courtyard and then ride in a procession to the Racecourse.”

  “Procession?” Filipa murmured.

  “We will circle it twice so that everyone can see us,” Mark went on, “and then start the race and, I forgot to tell you, there will be jumps.”

  Filipa laughed.

  “I might have guessed that you would forget something important.”

  “Don’t worry,” Mark said sharply. “Jackson assured me that the horse you are riding is a superb jumper and, having tried out Hercules before I bought him, I am convinced that even the Marquis will not have anything better in his stable.”

  “I hope you are right,” Filipa said in a low voice.

  She was thinking despairingly of what Hercules must have cost.

  Mark dropped her at the steps outside the house.

  Then he drove off to the stables to collect the horse that the Marquis had promised him.

  Rather forlornly Filipa walked into The Hall.

  She found a fatherly-looking butler with white hair waiting for her.

  “I believe you’re Miss Fifi,” he said in a pontifical manner. “May I offer you some refreshment or do you wish to go to your room?”

  It was the first time that Filipa had realised the abbreviation of her name sounded very theatrical.

  She had noticed when she came down after putting on her bonnet that Mark had attached a label to each of their trunks and she thought that it was a sensible thing to do.

  There would be a lot of different people arriving with their luggage and the footmen would then know to which bedrooms to take it to.

  It was so typical of Mark that he had forgotten to tell her what he had written on the labels.

  Now she realised that she was ‘Miss Fifi’.

  She thought that her mother would be horrified at the abbreviation of her name.

  But it was, of course, very suitable for a Pretty Horse-Breaker.

  She wished, as she walked upstairs behind the footman who was guiding her to her room, that she had asked Mark more about the Pretty Horse-Breakers and what their names were.

  But it was too late and she thought that when he did return he would be hurrying to change.

  The best way she could help him would be to be ready herself.

  Waiting at the top of the stairs there was an elderly woman who Filipa knew was the housekeeper.

  She wore a black silk dress with a large silver chatelaine hanging from her waist.

  There was a chatelaine at The Manor that had once been worn by their housekeeper when they had one.

  But it was not as impressive as the one Filipa saw now, nor could any housekeeper of theirs have been so authoritative.

  “Will you come this way, miss,” the housekeeper said sharply.

  There was an expression on her face and a tone in her voice that made Filipa know immediately that she disapproved of her.

  It was an attitude that she had never encountered before, but she thought it was, in a way, understandable.

  The servants at The Hall did not welcome the Pretty Horse-Breakers, if they were like actresses, as guests of their Master.

  Filipa accepted it as somewhat of a joke that she should be treated so haughtily and, when all this was over, she would be able to laugh about it with Mark.

  “This is your room, miss,” the housekeeper was saying in a disdainful voice that was very expressive. “Emily’s unpackin’ for you and I hopes you’ll find everythin’ you want.”

  The way she spoke told Filipa that the housekeeper would be very surprised if there was anything she lacked and would be reluctant to supply it.

  Again Filipa wanted to laugh.

  “Thank you very much,” she said quietly. “I am sure I shall have everything.”

  She looked to where Emily was ta
king the Mediaeval robe out of her trunk and shaking the creases out of it as she put it on a hanger.

  “Is that what you are goin’ to wear, miss,” the housekeeper asked in a tone as if it was something improper.

  “I am to look like a Mediaeval lady at the time of the Battle of Agincourt,” Filipa replied. “I am only afraid that when I am jumping, my hat may fall off.”

  “I would not be surprised, miss,” the housekeeper said. “If you asks me, fancy dress should be kept for balls. It’s not somethin’ that’s at all suitable for a Racecourse.”

  With a barely concealed sniff of disdain she walked away, moving through the door like a ship under full sail and Filipa had to stop herself from laughing out loud.

  Emily, who was not much older than Filipa was herself, walked to the side of the wardrobe.

  “Now don’t you worry, miss,” she said, “I’ll bring you some pins to put in the hat and I sees there’s a bit of elastic to put under the chin as well as the soft white stuff.”

  “I noticed that too,” Filipa said. “I am sure we can fix it so that it stays on. It might be easier if I was wearing a crown or something like that.”

  “A crown is what one of them other ladies is wearin’,” Emily said.

  “Then I am glad I am different,” Filipa replied, thinking that that was what Mark would want.

  Emily put the shoes that went with the dress in front of a chair and asked,

  “Are you going to change now, miss?”

  “I may as well start,” Filipa replied. “I suppose someone will let me know when Sir Mark Seymour, who is my partner, returns.”

  “He’s in the next room,” Emily told her.

  She opened a communicating door that Filipa had not noticed before and she showed her another large, very attractive room adjoining hers.

  It was not unlike her own and a valet had already unpacked Mark’s clothes as the Black Knight and laid them on the bed.

  Filipa looked round and then instinctively went to the window.

  As she did so, she saw Mark on a very fine-looking horse ride over the bridge that spanned the lake and into the Park. He was on his way to the Racecourse.

  She looked at him for a moment and then she said,

  “I am sure that Sir Mark will be some time before he returns. Do you think I could possibly explore a little of the house while there is no one here?”

  She thought as she spoke that she must do it now.

  If they left immediately after the last race, she might never have the opportunity again.

  Emily hesitated and Filipa went on rapidly,

  “What I would love to see, if it is possible, is the library. I am sure that there is a very good one in this large house.”

  “It’s ever so big, miss,” Emily agreed. “I’m sure Mr. Hudson, who’s the Curator, would be pleased to show it to you.”

  Filipa waited excitedly and Emily added,

  “I’ll fetch a footman to take you to him.”

  She went out of the bedroom.

  Filipa took off her bonnet and patted her hair into place.

  She had taken particular care in arranging it this morning and she hoped, although Mark had said nothing, that he had thought it looked quite nice.

  It was certainly not as unfashionable as she feared.

  Then, as she heard the door open and Emily return, she looked round eagerly.

  “James’ll take you to Mr. Hudson and I’ll have everythin’ ready for you to change into when you comes back.”

  “Thank you very much,” Filipa said. “You have been very kind.”

  She followed the footman down the stairs.

  They went along a passage which, she realised, contained some fine antique furniture and many magnificent pictures.

  It was quite a walk before the footman opened a double door and she went into the most magnificent library that she could have ever imagined.

  There were books from floor to ceiling and a balcony that ran along one side, which could be reached by a spiral staircase.

  Sunshine was pouring in through several long windows, many of them ornamented with the Marquis’s Coat of Arms in stained glass.

  It was so lovely that she could only stand gasping, when an elderly man with white hair came from the end of the room towards her.

  “This lady wants to meet you, Mr. Hudson,” she heard the footman say.

  “Good morning, ma’am.”

  Mr. Hudson spoke in a quiet educated voice.

  At the same time Filipa had the impression that he was surprised to see her.

  “This is a very beautiful library,” Filipa said. “Please will you show it to me?”

  She held out her hand as she spoke and Mr. Hudson shook it.

  “It will be a pleasure. Are you really interested in books?”

  “I love them,” Filipa said. “I would like to read every book you have here.”

  Mr. Hudson laughed.

  “I am afraid that would take you a long time! Let me show you how I have organised them.”

  She realised as he took her round that it had been a work of love.

  He had arranged the history books, the geography books, the Classics, and the poetry all in their own categories and it made it easy to find anything without having to search in a dozen shelves.

  Everything was beautifully catalogued too in a book he showed her which was filled with his clear elegant handwriting.

  Filipa was so thrilled with everything he told her and everything he showed her.

  Only when they had finished one side of the room did she ask what the time was.

  He told her it was after eleven o’clock.

  She gave a little cry of horror and explained that she had to change.

  Then she ran in what she thought later must have been a most undignified manner along the passage towards the hall.

  She had almost reached it, when she bumped into a man coming quickly round the comer.

  “I am s-sorry,” she stammered.

  She looked up to see a face of a man who was not so young.

  It had a somewhat debauched expression with lines under his eyes, which were staring at her.

  “Please forgive me,” she said quickly, “but I am in a hurry.”

  “That is obvious, my pretty one,” he replied. “Come and explain to me who you are running away from.”

  “I have no time to do anything but to change,” Filipa said. “I am sorry I was not – looking where I was – going. You must – forgive me.”

  Not waiting for an answer, she began to run on.

  Although the man put out his hand to try to stop her, she was too quick for him and a moment later was running up the stairs towards her room.

  She was aware as she did so that he was watching her go.

  ‘I wonder who he is?’ she asked herself.

  As she reached her room, she decided that there was something definitely unpleasant about his face.

  She hoped that she would not see him again.

  Emily was there waiting and, as Filipa went in, she said,

  “I was a-wonderin’, miss, if I should come and fetch you back, as time’s getting’ on. The gentleman’s changin’ next door.”

  “We must hurry,” Filipa said, afraid that Mark would be angry.

  She let Emily help her off with her dress, washed in the warm water that was in the washstand and then quickly put on the Mediaeval gown.

  She found as she did so that it literally fitted her like a glove, revealing her figure very elegantly.

  Emily helped her to arrange the Mediaeval headdress and, as she had promised, she had tightened the elastic that held it in place under Filipa’s chin.

  “I’m sure it won’t blow away now, miss.”

  “I hope not,” Filipa said anxiously, “and thank you, Emily, for all you have done. I could not have managed without you.”

  “It’s a real pleasure, miss, and that’s the truth. Shall I knock and tell the gentleman you’re ready?”<
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  “Yes, please do,” Filipa said.

  She took a last look at herself in the mirror and then she realised almost with an exclamation of horror that she had forgotten the rouge and the lipstick.

  There was very little left of what she had put on in the morning.

  Quickly she found that Emily had placed the cosmetics in the drawer of the dressing table.

  She rubbed a little rouge into her cheeks as she had done before and powdered them and the tip of her small straight nose.

  She had just reddened her lips, as Emily told the valet who was helping Mark that she was ready.

  Mark came into the room and he was looking magnificent as the Black Knight.

  The darkness of his clothes accentuated his fair hair, the blue of his eyes and his clean-cut features.

  “You look marvellous!” Filipa exclaimed.

  “I really rather fancy myself,” Mark laughed.

  “Do I look all right?” she enquired anxiously.

  She thought that Mark glanced at her lips rather than at her headdress as he said,

  “You look fine. Come along, we must not be late.”

  Filipa thanked Emily again and then walked down the stairs.

  Below them in the hall the Pretty Horse-Breakers, all dressed in different costumes, were moving towards the front door.

  The horses were outside and the gentlemen, when they saw Mark, called out ‘good morning’ to him.

  Then their eyes, however, Filipa thought uncomfortably, looked at her questioningly.

  She was only too aware how amazing, even fantastic, the women looked.

  There was certainly nothing very peculiar about her own dress compared to theirs.

  One woman, as Emily had said, was dressed as a Queen. She had a crown of what purported to be precious stones on her head and her gown was lavishly bejewelled likewise.

  Another, in complete contrast, was dressed as Pierrette to match the Pierrot who was riding with her.

  Then, as they moved out of the door, a woman wearing a profusion of scarlet feathers that seemed to ripple like waves with every movement she made said,

  “Hello, Mark darlin’. Are you still furious with me?”

  What surprised Filipa was that her voice was definitely common and uneducated.

  Then, as she looked at her, she realised how lovely she was.