The Pretty Horse-Breakers

by Barbara Cartland

  There was Dora, with her baby face and blonde curls, who was known to be so severe in breaking a horse that the skirt of her habit always had bloodstains on it, while to make love to her was like sinking into a bowl of thick, rich, cloying cream.

  There was Nelly, Laurette and Mary Anne, all pretty, witty and gay, all women, who had amused and beguiled him, whose company he had found infinitely preferable to the respectability of Belgravia. Now, for some unknown reason that he could not even explain to himself, he did not welcome them at Manville Park.

  Behind them came their escorts, three Officers of the Household Cavalry – the Duke of Dorset, a rather oafish, red-faced young man who drank more than was good for him, Captain Willoughby, who had run through one fortune before he was twenty-five and had accumulated another on the gambling tables, the Earl of Feston, who gave the most expensive parties the Argyll Rooms had ever seen, which usually ended by his paying for the whole place to be redecorated.

  Behind them, sauntering slowly, with a smile on his rather florid countenance, came Sir Tresham Foxleigh.

  “We are all staying with Foxy,” Lais was explaining shrilly above the noise of the ‘Pretty Horse-Breakers’ who had clustered round Lord Manville to greet him. “He invited us and we brought some horses with us. He has the perfectly splendid idea of a competition in your riding school this afternoon, so do not tell us that you will not give us luncheon first as we are already famished with hunger.”

  It was difficult for Lord Manville to reply. He had not seen how Candida, at the sight of Sir Tresham, had stiffened and looked round to see if there was any escape except by the door through which everyone had entered.

  There was none and there was nothing she could do but watch and listen and know that Sir Tresham’s eyes were on her and her only as he came across the room.

  It was then that Lord Manville, above the turmoil and clamour made by his friends, heard Sir Tresham say,

  “Miss Candida, you must believe me that I wish only to apologise to you and ask that you will forgive me.”

  With a sudden almost unreasonable anger Lord Manville asked himself how it was possible that Candida knew Sir Tresham or what reason he could have for offering her his apologies. He wanted to hear her reply but Lais’s voice in his ear made it impossible and only Sir Tresham heard Candida say,

  “I have nothing to say, sir.”

  “But you must believe me,” Sir Tresham persisted, “that I am deeply grieved that I should have upset you and I am indeed humbly contrite.”

  Candida did not reply and he carried on insistently,

  “See, I throw myself on your mercy. You cannot be so hard-hearted as not to forgive a very contrite sinner.”

  “Then I accept your apology, sir,” Candida said in a low voice, “but now, if you will excuse me – ”

  “No – wait!” he pleaded.

  But already she had slipped past him, finding the way clear to the door and running from the library and out into the hall she met Adrian halfway down the stairs.

  “What has happened?” he asked. “What is all this noise?”

  “A lot of people have arrived,” she answered, “and that man – that horrible beastly man! I had hoped never to see him again.”

  “Who is it?” Adrian enquired. “And why has he upset you?”

  Candida did not answer and he said,

  “Tell me, what has he done to you that you should feel like this? Why, you are trembling! Who is he?”

  “His name is – Sir Tresham Foxleigh,” she stammered.

  “I’ve heard about him!” Adrian said with scorn. “I believe he is a complete outsider. Don’t have anything to do with him!”

  “I will not if I can possibly help it,” Candida replied miserably. “But why is he here? Lord Manville told me that he lived nearby but that he disliked him.”

  “I don’t suppose he will stay long,” Adrian said soothingly. “What has he done to frighten you?”

  “He forced himself into Mrs. Clinton’s house in London,” Candida answered in a low voice. “I was there – alone.”

  She gave a little shiver at the memory and then said almost beneath her breath,

  “He – tried to – kiss – me. It was – frightening.”

  “I told you he was an outsider!” Adrian exclaimed. “But he cannot hurt you here in this house.”

  “I don’t want – to speak to him, I don’t want him to come – near me,” Candida said almost wildly.

  “He will not,” Adrian declared, “I will be near you and keep him away.”

  “You promise?” Candida asked.

  “I promise,” he replied with a smile. “Don’t worry, Candida.”

  She tried to smile back at him, but her eyes were troubled.

  “Lunch will be ready in a moment,” Adrian continued, looking at the grandfather clock. “I suppose they will stay, but I hope they will leave afterwards.”

  “I hope so too,” Candida said, thinking of what they had planned for the afternoon.

  Her hopes were, however, to be dashed. At luncheon Lais, who had seated herself as if by right on Lord Manville’s right, announced the plans they had made before their arrival.

  “It was Foxy’s idea,” she said, “that we should have a competition to see who can ride the best. And what do you think? He has offered one hundred guineas as the prize!”

  “That’s right,” Sir Tresham’s voice boomed from the other end of the table, “a hundred guineas, Manville! Are you prepared to match it?”

  Lord Manville looked at him quizzically.

  “As the competition is to take place on my property, I feel that would hardly be appropriate,” he replied. “My prize will be two hundred guineas.”

  There was a little gasp and several ‘Pretty Horse-Breakers’ clapped their hands. For a moment Sir Tresham’s eyes narrowed. He looked truculent and Candida guessed that he was the type of man who would hate to be bettered at anything.

  Then he smiled.

  “I’ll have a side wager with you, Manville, that my choice will beat yours, whoever it may be.”

  “What stakes are you suggesting for that?” Lord Manville enquired and there was no mistaking the distaste in his expression and his voice.

  “Let’s make it worthwhile,” Sir Tresham suggested and the undercurrent of rivalry in his tone was very apparent. “Why not five hundred guineas? Or is that too expensive for you?”

  “On the contrary,” Lord Manville answered coldly, “I am surprised you are so moderate. May I ask who you are selecting as the lady of your choice?”

  “But certainly,” Sir Tresham replied. “Who else but Lais!”

  There was a little gasp round the table. It was quite obvious Sir Tresham meant to be provocative.

  The eyes of the two men met and Candida saw that, while there was an expression of defiance on Sir Tresham’s face, Lord Manville gave no indication of what he might be feeling or if indeed he had registered the full impact of the insult.

  “In which case,” he said reflectively after a moment’s pause, “my choice will be Candida.”

  Again there was a little flutter of surprise and Candida realised that the whole table had turned to look at her.

  Just for a moment she felt a sudden panic creep over her, then she realised that it was not she that Lord Manville was backing but Pegasus. Pegasus would show them all what a horse could do!

  “I declare it is too bad,” Lais cried, “that Foxy should choose me. I meant to ride for you, Silvanus, I have even brought Firefly with me.”

  “I wonder who arranged that,” Lord Manville said, one of his most cynical smiles just lifting the corners of his mouth.

  ‘There is something behind all this,’ Candida thought to herself.

  She felt as if it was all part of a play and that it had all been planned. Who was Lais, who was so familiar with Lord Manville and who seemed to have a special place by his side? And why should Sir Tresham Foxleigh be behaving in what was obviously, even t
o someone as ignorant and uninformed as herself, a manner that was both aggressive and rude?

  Lord Manville had said he disliked Sir Tresham, but it appeared that Sir Tresham had an even deeper distaste for Lord Manville. It was all very bewildering and then beneath the table she felt Adrian’s hand touch her reassuringly.

  “Don’t worry,” he said almost beneath his breath, “they are old enemies.”

  There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but it was impossible. Chattering and laughing, the ladies rose from the table and she heard Lais say to Lord Manville,

  “We will go and change. Foxy has seen to everything and we are convinced that you will wish us to stay for dinner. We could dance and gamble afterwards. That would be fun, would it not?”

  “Have I any say in the matter?” Lord Manville enquired.

  Lais, her red lips inviting, bent forward to whisper something in his ear. Suddenly Candida felt as though the whole room had gone dark and she was alone.

  She followed the chattering throng of ‘Pretty-Horse-Breakers’ out of the dining room, across the marble hall and started up the grand staircase. Then, when one of the women would have spoken to her, she fled, holding up the skirt of her gown to run helter-skelter up the rest of the stairs into her own bedroom.

  What she was escaping from or why, she had no idea. She only knew that everything had changed – the happiness had gone, the feeling of being almost at home at Manville Park had vanished.

  She was alone, utterly alone in a strange place with strange people she did not understand. What was wrong? She could not find an explanation. She only knew that she was desperately unhappy.

  There came a knock at the door. Candida felt herself stiffen.

  “Who is it?”

  “It is I, miss,” answered her maid.

  “Come in,” Candida called.

  The girl came into the room, closing the door behind her.

  “I understand, miss, you are changin’ into ridin’ things.”

  “No, I am not riding,” Candida replied and then she remembered the bet.

  How could she let Lord Manville down, how could she refuse to ride Pegasus? For if she did not ride, would he not lose five hundred guineas to that odious Sir Tresham Foxleigh?

  “No, no,” she said quickly, “give me my riding habit.”

  She must go through with it, there was nothing else she could do. At least Pegasus would show them that all their horses were inferior to him.

  She would not think about Lais with her lovely face and slanting eyes, she would not think about her relationship with Lord Manville, whatever it might be. She would not think about Sir Tresham Foxleigh with his horrible insinuating smile. She would think only of Pegasus, who was a King amongst horses.

  It was only when she was actually mounted on Pegasus and moving down with the others towards the outdoor riding school that Candida realised that she was wearing a habit she had never worn before.

  Of periwinkle-blue it made her skin seem very white, her hair almost like flames of fire. The little velvet hat that went with it had an ostrich feather of the same colour which curled under her chin.

  She knew that she looked elegant and she would not have been a woman if she had not been glad that she need not feel ashamed of her appearance amongst the colourful and expensive habits of the other women. Then she saw Lais and was no longer satisfied with herself.

  Lais was wearing a scarlet habit frogged with black braid and a high top hat trimmed with a scarlet veil. She looked not only incredibly smart but extremely seductive. She was riding Firefly beside Lord Manville and only Candida noticed the little movement beneath her skirt, which meant that even at the walk she was using her spur on Firefly.

  “I hate her!” Candida whispered to herself. “I hate her for her viciousness to that poor horse!”

  But she knew that there were other reasons for her hatred.

  Sir Tresham Foxleigh appeared to have planned the whole competition down to the last detail. Each lady was to ride in turn and the gentlemen could lay their bets with one another or with him.

  “I am prepared to challenge the field,” he announced grandiosely.

  Then last of all there would be a competition between the rider of his choice and the rider of Lord Manville’s. As he had it all cut and dried, there were no protests or arguments.

  Dora’s horse was playing up and so she insisted on going first over the jumps, using, Candida noticed, not only her whip with quite unnecessary severity but at the same time thrusting in her heel with its long pointed spur. Candida had a glimpse of it as Dora walked up the steps of the mounting-block and the mere sight of that long vicious point had upset her.

  The Duke of Dorset was backing Dora against Phyllis, who was the next rider. He collected two hundred guineas and Phyllis’s sponsor shrugged his shoulders good-humouredly and paid without a murmur.

  Correspondingly large bets were placed on Fanny, on Mary Ann, Laurette and Nelly and then finally, almost too quickly it seemed to Candida, the moment came when Lais, after a whisper aside with Lord Manville, took Firefly to the starting point.

  There were ten fences, all quite high and then the water-splash, which consisted of a blind hedge with quite a wide ditch at the other side. The horse, not knowing it was there, had to stretch out in mid-air if he was to miss the water.

  Nelly had already had a refusal, punished her horse severely and forced him to take the jump again. He had, however, misjudged the distance and his hind legs splashed water over himself and his rider.

  Nelly’s sponsor lost two hundred and fifty guineas on this, and Nelly was looking sullen and disagreeable as she rode back, making her horse pay dearly for his obstinacy with her armed heel.

  Lais was very confident and there was no doubt that she was an extremely fine horsewoman. Firefly was also a very good horse. Her timing was perfect and Firefly seemed faultless in the way he took every fence and cleared the water-splash.

  Then, when Lais had finished, instead of riding off, she took Firefly round the centre of the school, making him walk slowly, high-stepping with a precision and a grace that drew exclamations from everyone watching.

  “That horse is unbeatable,” Sir Tresham declared loudly, “and so is its rider. Do you not agree, Manville?”

  “The competition is not yet ended,” Lord Manville answered coldly.

  There was a fresh burst of applause as Lais came from the enclosure to join them.

  “Bravo!”

  “Well done!”

  “Are you pleased with me?” Lais asked, but she looked as she spoke not at Sir Tresham but at Lord Manville.

  He looked away from her.

  “Now, Candida,” he said, “let’s see what Pegasus can do.”

  It was his asking for Pegasus’s prowess, not her own, Candida thought, which made it easier than it otherwise might have been. She was no longer afraid for them to see her ride, no longer shy of those strange women watching her or even of Sir Tresham Foxleigh.

  “Steady, boy,” she said softly to Pegasus, “don’t rush it.”

  There was no need to tell Pegasus what was expected of him. He took every fence with a foot to spare and treated the water-splash with contempt. Round he went, not once but twice, and then Candida took him into the middle of the school, even as Lais had done. She walked him round high-stepping, just to show Firefly that whatever he could do, Pegasus could do better.

  Then Pegasus did all the tricks she had shown Major Hooper in that field at Potters Bar and half a dozen more besides. He knelt down on his front legs, he sat down, he waltzed, he walked, he did everything almost it seemed without a touch of the reins or heel, clearly enjoying every moment with the grace and expertise of an animal that has been taught not by cruelty but by love.

  When finally he bowed low, his head right, to the left and to the centre, there was no one watching who did not cry out spontaneously at the sheer brilliance of the performance.

  Candida trotted slowly towards the
assembled throng. She had eyes only for one person and, when she saw the admiration and satisfaction in Lord Manville’s expression, she knew it was all she had asked for and more.

  “Well done!”

  He spoke softly above the cries of the other people who now were clustering round Candida asking questions, exclaiming with delight.

  “What a wonderful horse!”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “How do you teach him to do all those things?”

  “Can you show us how it’s done?”

  Then suddenly, before she could answer, there was Lais, her voice shrill above the others.

  “I will ride him, let me show what he will do for me.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Lais dismounted from Firefly and a groom ran to his head. She came up to Candida, forcing her way through the others to stand at Pegasus’ side.

  “I will ride him,” she said again. “Dismount and I will show you some new tricks.”

  “No,” Candida answered softly.

  “You cannot say no,” Lais protested, “he is not your horse.”

  She turned towards Lord Manville.

  “You have always told me, Silvanus, that any horse in your stable was mine. Well now, you must keep your promise. Let me ride this one and I will show you something worth seeing.”

  “No,” Candida said again and now her hands tightened on the reins.

  Pegasus felt that something was wrong and he started to fidget a little, making the spectators move away from him. Lais, however, stood her ground.

  “Get down,” she screamed furiously, “you are not going to prevent me from riding one of his Lordship’s horses, not you or anyone else. You may think you are a horse-breaker, but you are inexperienced. This horse will work better under me, I assure you. So give him to me.”

  She saw the defiance in Candida’s face and almost instinctively she raised her whip. Whether it was to hit Candida or Pegasus, there was no knowing, because, with a little cry of protest, Candida moved.