Riding In the Sky

by Barbara Cartland

  He spoke roughly and then he looked at Filipa apologetically.

  “Please,” he pleaded, “you know how much it means to me.”

  She smiled at him.

  “All right, but remember, however much we have now, it has to last a long time.”

  “Do you suppose I don’t realise that?” he enquired angrily and she wished that she had not said it.

  The next race was the big race and, as she saw Lord Seaforth talking to Yvonne, she knew what he was expecting.

  She wondered what would happen when he was disappointed.

  The crowd seemed by now to have grown enormously and, as Filipa had anticipated, there were several outside bookies.

  The horses, led by the Marquis, began to move down to the start.

  Filipa could see Yvonne waiting near the bookies and she was quite certain that Lord Seaforth had taken a number of bets from the members of the house party.

  His horse, which he had brought from Ireland, was an unusual-looking animal, rather ungainly and with long legs.

  Yet from the way he moved Filipa was sure that he was very fast and should also be a good jumper.

  The race started and she found it difficult to watch anyone but the Marquis.

  He looked even more magnificent than usual on Jupiter and he was riding easily in a way that few men could emulate.

  He was virtually a part of his horse so that they moved in perfect unison.

  As she watched, Filipa knew how much her father would have admired the Marquis.

  She could understand that it was impossible for Mark not to hero worship a man who was such an outstanding rider and who owned everything he would like to own himself.

  Filipa understood exactly how the Marquis was controlling and holding in Jupiter.

  He was riding clear of the other horses and taking every fence with more ease than most of the other riders.

  The fences were higher than they had been yesterday.

  The first time round the Marquis was still holding back and the same applied to the second.

  By this time there had been several casualties, mostly of local entries and one of the Marquis’s friends had been thrown when his horse refused.

  Now there was that inevitable air of excitement, as there were only a few fences to go.

  Filipa saw that the Marquis and Lord Seaforth were slightly ahead of the rest of the field.

  She knew that Lord Seaforth was expecting the Marquis’s horse to collapse at any moment.

  Although it was impossible to see his face, she was sure that he kept glancing at Jupiter.

  He could not understand why the horse was going so well.

  They reached the last fence and jumped it side by side.

  Then with a superb piece of riding as they galloped furiously up the flat towards the Winning Post, the Marquis swept past Lord Seaforth.

  He had won by a good length.

  Watching from the brake, Filipa heard a cry from the seat behind her and guessed that it came from Yvonne.

  “Mon Dieu! It not fair!” she screamed. “The Marquis use witchcraft to make him win!”

  “The witchcraft is that he rides better than your Johnny,” Lulu said spitefully.

  “You wrong! Very wrong!” Yvonne raved. “That is the right word. There is something wrong!”

  She stormed down the steps of the brake and they heard her muttering to herself as she hurried towards the Winning Post.

  Filipa felt a sense of relief sweep over her.

  She had been so afraid that after all she had been mistaken.

  Perhaps Lord Seaforth had found a better way of administering the drug than by putting it in Jupiter’s water.

  But she had saved the Marquis, although he would never know of it!

  She had also saved Jupiter, who was the most magnificent horse she had ever seen.

  She was so satisfied by the Marquis’s victory and by her own that she found it hard to concentrate on the races that took place after luncheon.

  Today, because there was so much to do, they had not returned to the house for a midday meal.

  Instead they had a cold picnic brought to the course.

  They had eaten at tables laid out behind the brake, waited on by the Marquis’s footmen and for Filipa the food seemed excellent.

  Even so, she heard some of the gentlemen grumbling that they much preferred a proper meal such as they had had yesterday.

  There were two races after luncheon.

  Mark was fourth in the first and in the last race, to everyone’s surprise, a complete outsider in the shape of a local farmer won the flat without jumps.

  The Marquis and all the other gentlemen congratulated him generously.

  Filipa had never seen a man more delighted than when he was awarded one hundred guineas and a silver cup.

  Then they all went back to the house.

  As it was still rather early to rest before dinner and she had no wish to sleep, Filipa decided to go to the library to find herself a book.

  She realised that it would be difficult to choose one from so many.

  So she browsed for some time among the shelves, finding it hard to make up her mind.

  She was just about to pull out a volume on the history of the Marquis’s family, when the door of the library opened and Lord Seaforth came in.

  Because she thought that she would not see anyone in the library, Filipa had pulled off her jacket and her hat.

  She felt that she was looking somewhat untidy, but it would have been a waste of time to go upstairs and then come down again.

  She therefore did not look at Lord Seaforth.

  She thought perhaps that he had come for the newspapers that were spread out on a stool in front of the fireplace.

  She hoped that he would not notice her.

  But instead he walked down the library to where she was standing and said,

  “I want to talk to you, Fifi.”

  With an effort Filipa turned around from the books to face him.

  “What – about?” she asked a little nervously.

  She saw that he had obviously been drinking and, although he was not wearing a hat, he was carrying a riding whip in his hand.

  “I understand,” Lord Seaforth said, “that you went to the stables this morning.”

  There was something in the way he spoke that made Filipa draw in her breath.

  “I went to – look at the – horses.”

  “And one horse in particular!”

  Filipa did not speak and after a moment he asked sharply,

  “Why did you have Jupiter’s water changed?”

  “Because I – had inadvertently – ” Filipa began.

  Then suddenly she felt her anger at what he had intended sweep over her and she forgot to be cautious.

  “Yes, I did have it changed,” she said, “because I knew you put into it a dangerous drug that would have injured – perhaps even killed such a magnificent animal.”

  “How the devil could you know that?” Lord Seaforth demanded. “And if you did, why should you interfere?”

  He looked down at her and lost his temper.

  “May you rot in hell!” he roared. “You have cost me a fortune and I will be damned if I will let any Horse-Breaker get away with that!”

  “There is nothing you can do about it,” Filipa replied defiantly. “And if you try again – I shall inform the Marquis of what you intended.”

  “You will, will you, you troublesome little bitch?” Lord Seaforth shouted. “Well, I will make it hard for you to go on with your interfering ways!”

  He was crimson in the face as he went on,

  “You told him last night that I was lying when I complained that the footman barged into me and now you have prevented me from winning a race that would have saved me from bankruptcy. Damn and blast you! It is time you had a piece of your own medicine!”

  He had raised his whip as he spoke.

  As Filipa screamed, he brought it down on her back.
>
  The pain of it shot through her like a red-hot iron!

  Chapter Six

  With an almost superhuman effort Filipa tried to run away.

  But Lord Seaforth struck her again and she fell forward on her knees.

  She covered her face with her hands and screamed because the pain of his whip was intolerable.

  “This will teach you to interfere in things that don’t concern you!” he growled. “I intend to beat you until you are unconscious!”

  He snarled the words at her like an animal.

  Then, as he raised his arm again, a voice from the door asked,

  “What the hell is going on in here?”

  It was the Marquis.

  Even though she could hardly breathe in her terror, Filipa felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he was there.

  “You stay out of this, Hugo,” Lord Seaforth shouted.

  “I see no reason why I should do so,” the Marquis said sharply, “and I will not have any woman assaulted in my house.”

  “She deserves everything I am giving her,” Lord Seaforth said furiously. “Just go away and let me teach her to behave better in the future!”

  The Marquis had reached Lord Seaforth by this time and wrenched the whip from his hand, saying,

  “I think you should join the others.”

  “I told you not to interfere!” Lord Seaforth retorted angrily. “This is my concern, not yours.”

  “Join the others!” the Marquis repeated.

  It was a command.

  Although he spoke in a low voice, there was no mistaking that he intended to have his way.

  For a moment Lord Seaforth was drunk enough to defy him.

  Then, staggering as he did so, he turned with a muffled oath and began to walk away.

  Only when he had gone one or two paces did he stop to say,

  “Don’t believe a word of what that lying little whore will tell you!”

  The Marquis did not reply.

  He had thrown down the whip he had taken from Lord Seaforth and was lifting Filipa up from the ground.

  He could see the weals already showing on her skin through the thin blouse she was wearing.

  Lord Seaforth’s second blow had torn the muslin, so there was blood on her back.

  Gently, so as to cause her as little pain as possible, the Marquis drew Filipa to her feet.

  As he did so, she suddenly felt a darkness coming up from the floor.

  She collapsed against him, her face hidden in his shoulder.

  He lifted her up in his arms and she was only half-conscious as he carried her out of the library.

  Instead of turning right down the corridor and proceeding through to the hall, he went to the left.

  At the far end of the corridor there was a second staircase that led to the upper floors.

  Only as he reached her bedroom, did Filipa come back to consciousness and realise where he was taking her.

  With an effort, as he laid her down very carefully on the bed, she managed to open her eyes.

  Then, as he would have spoken, a sudden thought came into her mind and she gave a little cry.

  “He may – try – again!” she said, her voice almost incoherent. “He will – hurt Jupiter! Stop – him!”

  The Marquis stared at her incredulously before he asked,

  “What are you saying?”

  For a moment Filipa found it impossible to answer.

  The Marquis sat down on the side of the bed and, taking her hand in his, said very quietly,

  “Tell me, Fifi, what happened?”

  She was feverishly following her own thoughts and fears and, instead of answering his question, she continued,

  “He might – hurt you too – stop him – stop him!”

  The Marquis rose and, going to the washstand, he poured out a glass of water.

  He brought it back to the bed and, surprisingly gently for so large a man, he lifted Filipa’s head and held the glass to her lips.

  She took a small sip and then, because he did not take the glass away, another.

  He put the water down and sat, as he had done before, on the side of the bed holding her hand.

  It was somehow comforting to feel the strength of his fingers.

  She opened her eyes to look up at him and say in a voice that was a little stronger,

  “You will not – let him – hurt – the horses?”

  “Tell me how he could do that,” the Marquis asked gently.

  “He has a – drug. He had – put it in – Jupiter’s water.”

  She shut her eyes and felt as though she was fading away again into the darkness.

  Then she felt the pressure of the Marquis’s fingers on hers as he said,

  “If you want to save Jupiter and me, Fifi, you must tell me what happened.”

  She drew in her breath.

  Then in a whisper she managed to say,

  “If the drug had worked – Jupiter would have collapsed – during the race. It – might have – killed him and – and perhaps you!”

  “It was in his water?” the Marquis asked.

  “Yes – I made up a story to make the – groom throw – it away – but he must have – told Lord Seaforth I d-did so.”

  Her voice trailed away into silence and the Marquis rose to tug at the bell-pull.

  As he did so, he looked down at Filipa.

  He was thinking that with her hair curling round her face and onto her shoulders, where it had fallen when Lord Seaforth struck her, she looked very young and beautiful.

  The door opened and it was not Emily but Mark.

  He looked with astonishment at the Marquis.

  “What has happened?” he asked.

  “I have just learned,” the Marquis replied in a hard voice, “that Fifi has saved Jupiter’s life and perhaps mine too. I want you to help me, Seymour, by stopping Lord Seaforth from doing any further damage.”

  Mark stared at him in surprise and the Marquis said,

  “We must not tell the rest of the party what has happened.”

  “What has he done? I don’t understand,” Mark replied.

  At that moment Emily came in.

  She too looked surprised to see the Marquis, who said quickly,

  “Miss Fifi has had an accident. Put her to bed and treat the wounds on her back. I feel sure that you will know what to do.”

  He did not wait for Emily to reply, but walked past her out into the corridor.

  Mark followed him.

  As they walked away, the Marquis told him in a low voice what he had learned from Filipa.

  Also the way that Lord Seaforth had treated her.

  *

  Filipa was only vaguely conscious that Emily was undressing her.

  She heard, however, the maid give an exclamation of horror when she saw her back.

  She then very gently put something soothing on the weals made by Lord Seaforth’s whip.

  Then she covered them with lint before she laid Filipa down again with her head on the pillows.

  “I’ll fetch you somethin’ warm and soothin’ to drink,” she said.

  To Filipa her voice came from a long distance and she was not certain what Emily had said.

  Later, and it might have been an hour or only a few minutes, she felt Emily put a cup to her lips.

  As she drank, she knew that it contained something warm and sweet.

  Afterwards the pain seemed to be a little relieved and she fell asleep.

  *

  As they walked down the corridor side by side, Mark was aware that the Marquis was angry.

  But he showed it in a different way from anyone else he had ever known.

  Only the Marquis’s closest friends knew that, when he was really incensed by anything and especially by cruelty, his voice took on an icy sharpness.

  It seemed to strike through anyone he was reprimanding and his eyes were like granite.

  “What are you going to do about Seaforth?” Mark asked.

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p; The Marquis had related the way he had found Lord Seaforth thrashing Filipa and what she had told him.

  The Marquis did not reply and after a moment Mark said,

  “Let me challenge him to a duel or shall I just knock him out?”

  “It would be a mistake to do either of those things,” the Marquis replied.

  When Mark looked at him incredulously, he added,

  “First we have to find the drug and that is why we will go at once to his bedroom.”

  Mark understood and he remarked,

  “He was downstairs drinking when I came up just now.”

  “That is what I hoped,” the Marquis replied.

  By this time they had reached almost the end of the corridor.

  The Marquis opened a door without knocking and they went into an impressive, luxuriously furnished bedroom, which communicated, Mark suspected, with the one occupied by Yvonne.

  As he thought of the Pretty Horse-Breaker who was paired with Lord Seaforth, the Marquis was obviously aware of her too.

  He put a finger to his lips, then locking the door behind him, he started to search the dressing table.

  Mark, seeing what he was doing, went to the chest-of-drawers.

  Neither of them found anything until the Marquis opened a small drawer under a mirror standing on the dressing table.

  He found what he sought.

  It was a cardboard box marked with a strange form of writing that he suspected was Chinese.

  As he looked at it, Mark realised what he had found and came to his side.

  The Marquis opened the lid and there were quite a number of small white pills inside.

  With them in the top of the lid was a piece of paper on which was written in an uneducated sprawling hand,

  “One man or woman – two hours

  For dog – three hours.

  For horses – four hours.

  Very careful – dangerous poison.”

  From the wording, it was obvious that it had been written by a foreigner.

  The Marquis made no comment as he let Mark read it.

  Then he placed it back in the box, which he closed and put in his pocket.

  He walked across the room to unlock the door.

  As he opened it, they saw Lord Seaforth standing outside. He stared at them, first in surprise and then with a look of consternation.

  “Looking for me, Hugo?” he asked in an effort to sound friendly.