“Not to mention you may well have children of your own to add to the mayhem! Be careful what you wish for, my dear. Before you know it you’ll soon be wishing for some peace and quiet!”
On the matter of household finances, Lady Sweet’s advice was practical as well. She commended Dahlia for even recognizing that someone had to pay for all the comforts. “That’s more than any of your Gaggle would do,” she smiled, knowing Dahlia appreciated any comparison between her and the other girls that set her apart from them.
“Do you think I should be worried by his trip? What events could threaten his investments?”
“No, you shouldn’t be worried about his trip. Randal is always communicating with his solicitors and doing something or other with his investments. And the events to which he is reacting can be positive, too. Maybe he wants to take advantage of our increasing presence in India, or the production of the steel about which your Mr. Kent is so enthusiastic.”
Dahlia gave her a look. “He’s not my Mr. Kent.”
Lady Sweet smiled, ignoring her rebuttal. “Regardless of why your father wants to make changes to his investments, it is not an uncommon thing.”
“But why would he physically go to London, especially now? Couldn’t he write to his solicitor?”
“Of course he could write, but perhaps there was some urgency and he would get there in person before the post. If you hadn’t noticed anything strange about his behavior of late, then I’m sure it is nothing to worry about.”
“What do you mean strange?”
“Well, Randal gets very quiet and goes over his accounts many times as if the figures will change just because he re-calculates them. Or he’ll receive some news that sends him into his study for hours. What I really take note of, though, is when his solicitor writes to him and then he goes to Cirencester.”
“What does that mean?” Dahlia said, taking mental note of all the dire signs for which she should look.
“That he received a great dividend from a well-placed investment and he went to buy me a new piece of jewelry from the goldsmith.”
Dahlia laughed with her friend. Sobering again, she asked, “Is there anything I can do to help him?”
“You asked me several months ago what you could do to start to manage Talbot Hall. Do you remember?”
“Yes.”
“Start to learn the household finances first,” Lady Sweet advised. “As a woman, your father would not feel comfortable discussing his investments with you, but you can learn from Glenda what things cost and see what can be done to minimize the costs. Because you work with the horses so much, you can do the same thing in the barn. But remember, Dahlia, while it is important to know how to use money wisely, I have had no indication your father has ever had any problem with money. So stop chasing phantom worries.”
Dahlia returned home with more peace of mind than when she left. It always amazed her how her friend Lady Sweet could provide such counsel, to put things in such a way, that everything became clear.
Peter Talbot returned from London and seemed to be his usual self, as Lady Sweet had predicted. Dahlia applied herself to learning the expenses of the household. Glenda was a willing teacher who took great pride in her knowledge of the local vendors – who would cheat you if you let them, who had the best produce at which times of the year, and even which ones were most susceptible to flattery to get a little extra for the bargained price. Dahlia learned how much money it took to feed the household, how often kitchen and bedding implements needed to be replaced, and what steps the experienced Glenda took to ensure they lasted as long as possible. After one month, Dahlia was convinced that there was no waste in Talbot Hall – monetary or otherwise. It seemed everything was used for its intended purpose for as long as practical, then reused in other innovative ways until it was ready for the midden heap. Glenda was the epitome of Mrs. Beeton’s ‘Household General.’
Satisfied she was both better educated on household finances and better prepared to know how to run a household, Dahlia felt more confidence as she viewed the everyday workings of Talbot Hall with a new eye. As she turned her attentions to how the barn was run, she found that Tom actually did all the purchasing. While Dahlia spent hours and hours with her music over the years, her father had been grooming his fourth son to manage the business side of the estate.
“How is it I didn’t know this?” she asked her brother one day when they were cleaning tack. “Was I really so engrossed in my own activities that I didn’t notice what everyone else was doing?”
Tom laughed. “We all had our own jobs, Dahlia. I think the only one who knew everything about who was doing what was Father. He slyly let us each do what we liked when we were little, then started to focus those preferences as we got older. Believe me, I was shocked when Leland said he wanted to make the church his profession. Father seemed to expect it. We were all too busy learning what we needed to learn to see – or care – what the rest of our siblings were doing. Except you, of course. We could hear your music from the moment you could talk!”
Tom put down one bridle he had finished oiling and took up a another. “You are lucky father let you continue performing, although with your talent I hardly think he could have stopped you. Music is not just an accomplishment with you, it is part of who you are.”
“Let me perform?”
“Well, Joe Granby’s sister wanted to perform on the piano in Cirencester and her father forbade it. Said it wasn’t suitable for a young girl to be on display as a performer.”
“What on earth does her father say about me, then?”
Tom snickered. “You don’t want to know!” Dahlia gasped, and Tom continued quickly. “I’m just teasing you. Everyone in the county knew you were different, Dahlia. Like Miss McElroy, when the talent is so clearly above the norm, as yours gave evidence of being when you were just four years old, it is treated differently. Joe told me his sister cried when her father told her she couldn’t perform. ‘You’re not a Dahlia Talbot,’ he told her.”
“No wonder she didn’t like me,” Dahlia mused, thinking back at her wonder that Joe’s sister always kept her distance when their brothers were such good friends. She also wondered whether or not that was why she always felt apart from the rest of the little girls in the county who would later form the infamous Gaggle.
“Envy makes enemies, not friends,” Tom agreed with her, nodding. “But they seemed to get past it.”
“Only because of having five brothers,” Dahlia said grudgingly.
“That is a girl’s job. To become a good wife and mother,” Tom said as he rubbed the leather. “They finally got to a point where they were confident enough of their eligibility to think themselves better than you. They could then easily accept you into their circle as an inferior.”
Dahlia looked at her brother and thought, for the first time, how she had misjudged him – indeed, perhaps all her brothers. She had always thought they were completely unaware of the politics of the female community, but he seemed to see the situation quite clearly.
“How did you become so knowing?”
Tom smiled that brilliant smile she knew all the girls loved. “Boys talk, too, Dahlia. And nearly all of us have sisters.”
“They must say I haven’t done very well in my job to become a lady,” she said in a small voice, thinking about her behavior and hobbies, her distain for convention, and what must be perceived as her father’s leniency in allowing her to perform and train horses.
“If they thought it, they knew better to voice it to your brothers. Anyhow, such thoughts – if they had them – were completely replaced by others I shall not identify when they first saw you all dressed up like a lady at the assembly.” Tom stopped cleaning the bridle in his hands when he thought about that night. “I thought Denny and Danny would never get their jaws to close again after seeing you! Looked like two baby birds squawking for food,” he laughed, remembering the twins’ reaction to seeing his sister.
Dahlia blushed. “Be
that as it may, neither of them have come courting, so I gather a new dress isn’t enough to overcome their earlier perceptions.”
“You don’t want their attentions, Dahlia. Besides, you are already spoken for.”
Dahlia looked up sharply. “Spoken for? By whom?”
Tom flashed his bright smile and shook his head. “You never did see things until you were ready.”
Dahlia knew she would not get any further information from her brother so she did not engage in trying to pry it out of him. She went to Matilda instead.
“Why Mr. Kent, of course,” was her quick reply to Dahlia’s query.
Instead of being pleased, Dahlia felt a quick flash of anger. “What has he said? He hasn’t done anything that would proclaim his affections for me. He’s never danced with me more than twice in an evening, and he certainly has not foregone dancing with every other willing young lady in attendance.”
Matty smiled at her young friend. “These things are not said outright. There is a subtlety to romantic attentions. It is part of the dance. You have made your own preferences very clear.”
“Me? What have I done?”
Matty tried not to laugh at Dahlia’s indignation. “You cannot help the way you at him, nor how he looks at you – especially when you are not aware of it. Mr. Kent made his intentions very clear when he was last here.”
“How? When?” Dahlia demanded.
Matty rolled her eyes. Love is blind, she thought. “Mr. Kent has a habit of putting his hand at the small of your back when walking you to and from the dance floor.” Dahlia blushed and looked away, embarrassed that anyone noticed this, or might have noticed how she loved the feel of warmth from his hand. “An unnecessary gesture, slightly possessive when viewed by potential rival suitors yet perfectly acceptable given he did not reach around to hold your waist and he kept a suitable distance. Quite well done, I thought.”
Dahlia thought back to the second time she had ever seen James Kent. He had put his hand at the base of her back when they went into the meeting room after the performance. Did he think he possessed her then? Irritation rankled at her. He didn’t possess her now!
“It’s my choice, isn’t it?” She blurted. “Why should he do anything to pronounce an attachment? Subtle or not, it is I who should make the pronouncement! I have barely come out in society as an eligible young lady and already he has thwarted any potential interest by any other young man in the county! How dare he make such a declaration,” Dahlia stood up and went to the door. “And then go off to France!” She swept through the door and slammed it behind her.
Matty stared at the door, smiling.
Chapter 36
March passed quickly into April. As the weather warmed and the ground softened, Dahlia spent more and more time with Talisman. Slight as she was, he had accepted her weight well. He had pranced about at first with a wild look in his eye at the new position of his trainer on his back. Peter or Tom had him in hand, of course, then lunged him with Dahlia on board until he was quite accustomed to having a rider. It wasn’t until they took him off the lunge line that he threw her. Suddenly without a firm hand at his head and Dahlia trying to command him from above, the colt had gotten skittish and bolted forward. Unseated, she had come off in what she waved away as a ‘mid-stride dismount’ when her father came over to see if she was hurt. The colt had come to an abrupt halt on his own, looking around for the dislodged weight. He had trotted up to her where she had fallen and bent his head down.
“Yes, I’m all right,” she said to the horse. “But the idea is to stay together, you see.” Her father held the colt while her brother gave her a leg back up. After the first full turn around the arena, he seemed to catch on that he wasn’t alone. She talked to him reassuringly and kept patting his neck. His ears twitched back and forth, but he kept going. Day after day they worked at it until she could take him through all his paces. Talisman was going so well for Dahlia, that Tom figured he was ready for the weight of a man.
He was wrong.
As soon as Dahlia let go of the bridle and Tom applied the leg, the colt started to dance about uneasily. Tom held the reins more tightly and the colt backed up.
Fearing he would rear, Dahlia called, “Ease up on the reins!” The moment Tom did, the colt shot forward and gave a buck that sent him flying. Tom landed with a thud and Dahlia ran to his side.
“Are you alright?”
“Ah,” he groaned, trying to sit up. Dahlia saw that he could not use his left arm without pain.
“Yes,” he sighed, his hand on his shoulder. “Pushed it out of place, I should think.” He grimaced as Dahlia helped him up. Several paces away, the colt snorted.
“Naughty horse!” she scolded.
“Can’t blame a horse for being a horse,” said Tom. Dahlia called to the stable boy to collect Talisman and helped Tom to the house.
Several hours later, Dr. Chase arrived to tend to Tom’s shoulder. As expected, it was dislocated. It popped back in place easily enough, but Tom’s pain was considerable. His arm strapped tightly in a sling, Dr. Chase left a small bottle of laudanum and told Squire Talbot to ‘keep his son off the bloody horses’ for at least a week.
Dahlia’s father laughed. “You know that won’t be easy. I’ll be lucky if I can keep him on the ground for a few days.”
“The muscles won’t heal properly if he uses the arm,” offered Michael.
Dr. Chase nodded at Peter’s youngest son. “Quite right, lad. I’ll stop by in three days and put the fear of God in him. That should hold him for a few more days. It’s true though. This type of injury will mean a chronically weak shoulder if he does not let it heal properly.” He turned to Dahlia.
“You do your part to keep him out of the barn, Miss Dahlia. Tom told me the colt will let you do anything with him. ‘Charmed him,’ he said. Whatever it is you do, do it instead of your brother for a bit. T’would be best if he didn’t over exert that shoulder for at least a fortnight, though I guess we’ll have to settle for a week if we can get it.”
Dahlia nodded at the doctor. She guessed she was the only female in the county to whom the doctor would have asked such a favor. She liked him all the more for having voiced his confidence in her riding.
It was easy to keep Tom in bed the first two days as he truly was in pain. Small doses of the laudanum helped him sleep through the night. On the third day, however, he seemed more comfortable. Dahlia, Matty, and Glenda plied him with food and catered to his every whim. By the fourth day, however, all the ladies knew full well he was simply making them wait on him and he complained bitterly about their cruelty in making him get up and come down to meals.
Under the watchful eye of her father, Dahlia continued her work with the colt, who seemed contrite about affecting the loss of his last rider and was as calm and obliging as could be.
Peter knew they would have to get the horse accustomed to a male rider. With Tom still unable to use his arm fully, however, he could not take the chance of getting thrown as well and having the farm be down two hands. So he continued to let Dahlia take charge of Talisman. She had the most sympathetic hands of any rider he had ever seen. He imagined that was because she knew she could never overpower any horse and therefore used the reins more effectively. Men were more likely to try and fight a horse through the reins since they had significantly more upper body strength than a woman. Dahlia used every aid with just enough force as necessary. She rode with her head, outsmarting the horse instead of trying to overpower it. It made for a very effective rider, especially on a young horse.
Tom was out and about after one week, his arm still strapped. With the farm help sternly lectured to thwart any attempts to use his injured arm, and under the watchful eyes of Dahlia and her father, Tom was successfully relegated to coaching and supervising. He used the time to study the way Dahlia rode and the way the colt reacted to her aids. The job of the Talbots was to train any horse to its intended purpose. The colt was spirited and would grow into a powerful stall
ion. Despite its current trainer, this wasn’t a lady’s horse. Tom and his father would have to learn the subtleties of Dahlia’s method, then ease the colt into the heavier hands and stronger aids of a man without breaking his confidence.
By the end of April, both Tom and Dahlia had made significant progress with the colt. Tom was exercising him in the arena, and Dahlia was taking the colt on hacks. With the Roma due to arrive within the week, Peter toasted his children at a job well-done. “Don Alvaro will be amazed at the progress you have made with the colt.”
“Dahlia deserves the lion’s share of that praise,” Tom conceded.
Dahlia smiled, but voiced her fear that they had been too successful too quickly. “Do you think he will take Talisman with him?”
Peter shook his head. “Couldn’t answer that. Perhaps, if he has a buyer.” He saw Dahlia’s face fall. “On the other hand,” he offered. “He’s been under saddle less than six months. Just because he’s broken doesn’t mean he couldn’t use another year of training.”
Dahlia knew she grew too attached to all the horses that were brought to her father for training, but Talisman was different. He was truly the most magnificent creature she had ever seen, with an intelligent eye and a sweet temperament for all his spirit. She desperately hoped that Don Alvaro would leave him at Talbot Hall for more training. She would exercise him in the arena in the morning, then take a long hack with him on the mountain in the late afternoon. She loved the long shadows thrown by the trees as the sun edged its way towards the horizon. The warm April air was just beginning to chill and a soft breeze made the new leaves dance. As always, this translated into nature’s music in Dahlia’s mind. Coupled with the Talisman’s rhythmic tune, each afternoon ride was an exhilarating expedition set to music. She could forget the cares of the estate, of society, and of growing up and finding only more questions to each answer she received. She rarely met anyone on her hacks, and the solitude was welcome. Mentally, it was calming; it also afforded her the privacy to wear her britches outside of the closed training pen. Still early in the colt’s training, she had not yet introduced Talisman to the lady’s side saddle. Just to be safe, when she ventured out in her britches, she tucked her hair up in a wide-brimmed man’s hat and donned one of Michael’s old jackets. From a distance, Matty assured her she looked like one of her brothers or even the young stable boy.
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