The Pretty Horse-Breakers

by Barbara Cartland

  “I don’t think it is wise to elope unless in very exceptional circumstances.”

  “And what are they?” Adrian enquired.

  “The two people concerned,” Candida answered, “must love each other so much that they are prepared to sacrifice everything – their comfort, their social position and all that has been familiar to them in the past.”

  “Is that what your father and mother had to do?” Adrian asked.

  Candida nodded.

  “We were very very poor,” she said.

  “It must be terrible trying to live with no money,” Adrian commented.

  “Papa earned some, of course,” Candida replied, “but it was rather spasmodic. Sometimes we felt quite rich, then at other times, when one of his books had not been a success or we spent faster than he could write, things were very difficult.”

  “But he did make some money,” Adrian insisted.

  “Yes, of course he did,” Candida said, “and I always hoped that perhaps one day he would suddenly become famous.”

  “It would be wonderful if I could do that!” Adrian cried. “It really would be the answer to everything. I would not have to depend on my Guardian, I would have money of my own – money over which nobody else had any control.”

  “Why do you not try?” Candida asked softly.

  Adrian gave a laugh of sheer delight.

  “Why not?” he asked. “I should like to read you what I am writing now.”

  He picked up some papers from the desk and brought them to Candida.

  “I am just stuck for one particular line,” he confided, “I am sure you will be able to help me.”

  *

  Nearly an hour later Lord Manville came into the library and saw two fair heads very close together. They were sitting on the sofa and he thought with a little twist of his lips that she had not taken long – the ‘Pretty Horse-Breaker’ – in getting down to work.

  As Candida and Adrian heard him come into the room, they started apart almost guiltily and he wondered why, instead of being pleased, he felt a sudden irritation at the expression on their faces.

  ‘They’re concocting something between them,’ he thought.

  “Have you finished your business with the agent?” Adrian asked in what his Guardian thought was a somewhat affected voice.

  “I have,” Lord Manville said abruptly. “I came to see if there was anything you would like to do.”

  “Nothing – ” Adrian began, but Candida interrupted,

  “Oh, please, my Lord, would it be possible for me to see Pegasus? I know he came here yesterday.”

  “Of course,” Lord Manville replied. “I was thinking of going to the stables myself. Are you coming with us, Adrian?”

  “Yes, sir, of course, I should like to do that,” Adrian replied.

  Lord Manville thought he detected a glance passing between Candida and Adrian.

  ‘She has told him to toady me,’ he thought. ‘Oh well, it’s a step in the right direction.’

  Candida picked up her bonnet, which lay discarded on one of the high-backed chairs and Lord Manville saw her glance at it uncertainly.

  “There is no need for any formality here,” he said. “There is no one to see you if you would rather not wear that obviously Bond Street piece of headgear.”

  “I need not? That is splendid!” Candida cried. “I hate anything on my head.”

  “Nothing should hide the loveliness of your hair,” Lord Manville remarked.

  Candida blushed at the compliment and he looked at her approvingly.

  ‘She really is incredible,’ he said to himself. ‘If one did not know from which stable she has come, both metaphorically and physically, one would really believe that she had never received a compliment before.’

  They went out of the house into the warm sunshine.

  The fragrance of lilacs seemed to fill the air and Candida, looking across the Park with its golden carpet of daffodils, thought that this was the type of country gentleman’s estate she had always dreamt about.

  This was the right home for Pegasus. This was the sort of place, given the right Master, which could be a paradise for any horse. They turned towards the stables.

  “Who is Pegasus?” Adrian asked curiously.

  “He is my horse,” Candida said impulsively, then added, “I mean, he now belongs to Lord Manville. He is the most wonderful horse in the world, there has never been another like him.”

  “Why did you call him Pegasus?” Adrian enquired.

  “I think you know the answer to that,” Candida replied.

  “Of course,” he answered. “The famous winged horse of Greek mythology.”

  She smiled at him and then, in case Lord Manville should think that they were being too poetical, she asked,

  “Has your Lordship a lot of horses here?”

  “Quite a number,” he replied, “and I hope to purchase some more very shortly. Perhaps you would like to help me break them in.”

  “Can I do that?” Candida asked eagerly, her eyes sparkling.

  “You look too small and weak to break in a really spirited horse that has never been schooled,” he answered.

  “I have been helping Major Hooper and he says I am as good as, if not better than, any horse-breaker he has ever known.”

  “And Hooper is, of course, an expert,” Lord Manville said, a somewhat sneering note in his voice.

  “His horses are fine animals,” Candida said, “and they are well broken. I am sure he must have the best livery stable in the whole of London.”

  “It’s certainly the most famous.”

  “I thought it must be,” Candida replied in all sincerity, but, although he glanced at her mockingly, he said nothing.

  They reached the stables and Candida gave an exclamation of delight at the beauty of them. They were very well laid out, the stables themselves being of old, mellowed red brick, with the doors of the stalls painted a bright, cheerful yellow.

  There were a great number of them, she noted, and the horses with their heads over the half doors looked, as she had expected, worthy of the man who had been spoken of as one of the finest judges of horseflesh in the country.

  The Head Groom came hurrying up as they approached.

  “Afternoon, my Lord, it be a great pleasure to see your Lordship.”

  “Thank you, Garton,” Lord Manville replied. “Candida, this is Garton, who has been at Manville since I was a boy.”

  “That’s right, my Lord, thirty years next Michaelmas,” the Head Groom preened himself.

  “Miss Walcott is particularly interested in horses, Garton.”

  “Then I have plenty to show you, miss,” the Head Groom said proudly.

  “Can I see Pegasus first?” Candida asked, unable to wait for anyone else to make the suggestion.

  At the sound of her voice there was a sudden stamping in one of the stalls.

  “That’ll be Pegasus, my Lord,” the Head Groom exclaimed. “He seemed a bit restless, so I shut ’im in.”

  “Will you please let him out?” Candida asked. “There is no need for anyone to hold him.”

  The Head Groom looked at her in surprise, then at Lord Manville for instructions.

  Lord Manville smiled.

  “Do as the lady says, Garton,” he commanded.

  “Very good, my Lord,” the Head Groom replied, but he was muttering beneath his breath as he went towards the stall.

  Candida stood waiting.

  The noise of Pegasus stamping his hooves was plain to hear. Then, as the bolts were drawn back and the door swung open, she gave a little whistle. The Head Groom stood to one side as if he expected a tornado to come tearing into the yard.

  But Pegasus came out slowly.

  He was looking magnificent with his shining coat and tossing head.

  “Pegasus!” Candida called.

  He gave a little whinny as if in sheer delight, bucked to show his independence and then came trotting towards her.

  �
��Pegasus,” she said softly. “How are you, my love?”

  She put up her arms as he reached her side and the great stallion nuzzled his nose against her neck.

  “Are you well?” she asked. “Are they looking after you properly? Oh, my dear, I missed you this morning.”

  She had no idea what a picture she made or indeed that every stable hand was staring in astonishment, but she heard Lord Manville’s voice say,

  “You see, Garton, Miss Walcott knows how to handle horseflesh.”

  “I can see that, my Lord.”

  Adrian moved to Pegasus’s side to pat his neck.

  “Pegasus is the right name for him,” he said quietly to Candida. “He looks exactly as I expected him to look.”

  Candida smiled up at him.

  “I thought you would say that,” she said.

  Lord Manville had not missed the exchange between them. Now he strode away down the line of stalls.

  “Oh, please wait!” Candida cried, feeling instinctively that something was amiss. “May we not come too?”

  “If you are not otherwise engaged,” he replied indifferently.

  “But I want to see all your horses,” Candida said. “If I seemed preoccupied with Pegasus just now, it was because I have not seen him for so long.”

  “Since yesterday!” Lord Manville retorted.

  “It seemed a long time to me,” she answered.

  He looked down at the small pointed face with its big eyes and at Pegasus standing quietly beside her.

  “Come and tell me about my horses,” he said in a more friendly tone. “I feel I have a great deal to learn about them.”

  “Major Hooper says you know more about horses than anyone else in the country, my Lord.”

  “It’s a good reputation to have,” Lord Manville answered, “I only wish it was the truth. However, I am always ready to learn. Tell me how you taught your horse to come when you call him.”

  “He has always followed me everywhere, there is no need for him to have a bridle. Wherever he may be in the fields, I have only to whistle and he comes to my side.”

  “Do you hear that, Garton?” Lord Manville said. “I expect your stable boys spend hours in the morning trying to catch a horse that does not want to be saddled.”

  “That’s somethin’ you can’t teach, my Lord,” Garton replied.

  “You are right there,” Lord Manville agreed. “Come, Candida, what do you think of this mare? I bought her three years ago as a foal and I think you will admit that she is worth today a great deal more than I paid for her.”

  They wandered around the stables for over an hour. Candida enjoyed every minute, talking with a knowledge of horses that seemed to surprise not only Lord Manville but even Garton.

  She told them what herbs were best for poultices. She went into the stall of a horse of which all the stable boys were afraid and he let her pat his neck and was quiet and well behaved as long as she was with him.

  “We will ride tomorrow morning,” Lord Manville said as they left the stables. “Do you mind getting up early, Candida?”

  “No, of course not,” Candida replied, “I am used to it. In London we left the stables at half-past-five.”

  “You must have found it hard burning the candle at both ends,” Lord Manville smiled. “Most ladies like to lie in bed in the morning after a gay evening on the town.”

  Candida opened her lips to say she had never had a gay evening on the town and then she remembered what was expected of her.

  “I expect I am very strong,” she said instead.

  “You would need to be if you led that sort of life for long,” Lord Manville snapped and she wondered why he sounded so disagreeable about it.

  They went back to the house, where Lord Manville sent for the housekeeper, an austere old woman in rustling black silk who Candida thought looked at her disapprovingly.

  “Mrs. Hewson, this is Miss Candida Walcott,” Lord Manville said. “Will you please show her to her bedchamber and give her every possible attention. I expect by now her luggage has been seen to.”

  Mrs. Hewson gave Candida the very briefest possible bob, then answered respectfully,

  “Indeed it has, my Lord. The housemaids have unpacked everything.”

  Lord Manville looked at his watch.

  “Be down in an hour,” he said, “and, Adrian, try to contrive not to be late. If there is one thing I dislike, it is infuriating my chef by spoiling his dishes.”

  “Have you brought down your London chef?” Adrian asked. “That is good news. I had no idea you planned on doing any entertaining.”

  “I don’t,” Lord Manville replied, “but I felt that good food and drink are essential to my own comfort as well, of course, as yours.”

  Only Adrian guessed that something lay behind Lord Manville’s smooth reply. And even he would have been astonished if he had realised what a sacrifice his Guardian was making on his account.

  “If I go to the country,” Lord Manville had said to his Major Domo in London, “I am damned if I am going to have country food. It is irksome enough to leave London at this particular moment without adding to my discomfort by being badly fed.”

  “Mrs. Cookson is not a bad cook, my Lord,” the Major Domo replied. “She is, of course, not in the same class as Alfonse. At the same time you know what these Frenchmen are. I have a feeling that he, like your Lordship, will not wish to leave London at this particular moment.”

  “Tell Alfonse that I am relying on him to support me during what I have reason to believe will be a very tedious and irksome three days,” Lord Manville said.

  “If that is your Lordship’s message, I feel quite sure Alfonse will do his best to relieve the situation,” the Major Domo replied.

  To Lord Manville’s surprise, it was not only the dinner, which was delectable and an epicurean dream, but he found Candida and Adrian far more entertaining company than he had imagined possible.

  He thought he had forgotten that the young have a natural gaiety all of their own. He had grown used to the destructive and razor-like wit of his contemporaries and the artificial blandishments of the ladies he proffered his affections to.

  It was one thing to flirt brazenly with a double entendre behind every sentence, something very different to listen to two young people teasing each other, to find himself laughing at things which at other times he would have thought merely commonplace and boring, to find incredibly that the childish card games he had not played for twenty years were just as amusing as the gambling for the high stakes in which he indulged at White’s Club.

  “There is a very good game we used to play at home called Word-Making,” Candida said and then proceeded to beat both Lord Manville and Adrian.

  “You are too good,” Adrian said accusingly, “but it is only because you have played it more often than we have.”

  They ended up with Consequences, laughing so much at the ridiculous situations they conjured up that Lord Manville found himself still chuckling after both Candida and Adrian had gone up the grand staircase with lighted candles in their hands.

  “Goodnight, my Lord,” Candida said before she left, dropping him a curtsey. “I will not be late tomorrow morning. You did say seven o’clock, did you not?”

  “We will make it later if you prefer,” he said.

  “I think it is your Lordship who will be sleeping late in the good country air,” she replied.

  “We will see,” Lord Manville replied. “And we will see too how you manage on Pegasus outside the riding school or the confines of Hyde Park.”

  “Pegasus much prefers to be free of conventions, restrictions and pomposity – as I do,” she answered.

  She smiled at him then, lifting the front of her evening gown, ran up the stairs after Adrian.

  “I beg you also to be on time,” Lord Manville heard her say to his Ward in a low voice, “and don’t sit up late. It will not help if you are heavy-eyed.”

  “No, I will try to sleep,” Adrian answered.r />
  Lord Manville stood staring after them in perplexity. Help what? What were they talking about? And why did he suddenly feel out of it?

  They had both been so friendly and gay at dinner and he had been grateful to Candida for charming Adrian out of the sullens and making everything so easy. In fact he had positively enjoyed himself – quite contrary to his expectation.

  Now he was suspicious. Of what and why he did not know, but he felt something was going on behind his back and he did not like it. Then he shrugged his shoulders. These ‘Pretty Horse-Breakers’ doubtless had their own way of doing things. The girl was doing what he had asked of her. He ought to be grateful, he ought to be pleased.

  He could not help remembering that unmistakable look of relief he had seen on her face when he had told her that he – personally – was not interested in her. What could it have meant? Her attitude towards him was frank and friendly and he realised that by dinnertime she had lost some of her shyness.

  When they had been playing games, she treated him in exactly the same way as she treated Adrian. She had teased them both a little for their stupidity in not finding the right words.

  She had laughed with a spontaneous and infectious gaiety and, what at any other time he would have sneered at as a childish joke, had seemed to him, because it had amused Candida, something quite exceptionally funny.

  There was no doubt that he had picked a winner as far as Adrian was concerned. He had never seen the boy more animated or apparently more sensible. f he was not out of love with the Vicar’s daughter and in love with Candida by the end of the week, he would be very much surprised.

  She was an amazing creature, almost as amazing in her own way as that enormous black stallion she loved so dearly. Then he remembered Hooper saying much the same thing and his lips tightened.

  Seeing who she was, seeing where she came from, was she putting anything over on him? Was she being so clever that he was being tricked without realising it?

  Lord Manville went back into the drawing room and poured himself a glass of brandy.

  Then he walked across the room to stand at the open French window looking out into the garden. It was a starry night with a half-moon creeping up the sky.

  The scent of night stock was fragrant in his nostrils. A warm breeze was soft on his cheeks and around him was the quietness of the sleeping house and the great empty parkland stretching away across the silver lake.