‘Yes, madam,’ Mary said vaguely, for she was listening to the sounds in the hall. Now she heard Jemmy shout to a boy for cold buttermilk, and Fand pulled his head away from her caressing fingers and ran to the door as Jemmy came in, looking deliciously hot and ruffled, dressed only in breeches and shirt, and smelling of sweat and grass and animals, his long black curls tied out of the way at the nape of his neck. Mary’s palm grew damp just at the sight of him, and she thought how wonderful it would be if they were two ordinary people and able to fall in love. The dog Fand ran back and forth between her and Jemmy, head low, smiling his delight – he was very fond of Mary, a thing which she knew had puzzled Jemmy. Jemmy was looking at her now with a slightly quizzical expression, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. She had thought she looked prettier today than usual, wearing a light green dress which made her skin look better, and a dark-green ribbon in her hair.
‘Well, madam,’ he said, and his voice was kinder than usual. Lady Dudley was straightening in her chair and bristling at his effrontery, in coming in such a state before her lady.
‘Perhaps you would like to seek the services of your valet, sir, before you enter the drawing room,’ Lady Dudley said. Mary glanced anxiously at her, willing her to be silent. Jemmy frowned slightly. ‘It is hardly fitting—’
‘Thank you, madam,’ Jemmy interrupted her, ‘I shall seek my valet in a moment, when I have cooled myself on the window seat and drunk my – ah, here it is. Thank you, boy. Is Clement in the house?’
‘Yes, master,’ said the boy, carefully passing the tall cup of buttermilk to Jemmy.
‘Tell him I’d like to speak to him in the steward’s room before dinner.’ The boy nodded and left, and Jemmy came and sat down on the window seat beside Mary and drained off half the buttermilk.
Mary could smell its coolness mingled with Jemmy’s sweat. The action of sitting with her seemed unexpectedly kind. She plucked up her courage to say, ‘Have you amused yourself this morning, sir?’
‘Why, yes,’ he said, looking at Lady Dudley. ‘I have been down to Clifton Ings – where we hold the races, you know – to help drive the grazing animals off.’
‘Surely there is a common herdsman to do that,’ Lady Dudley said, scandalized. Mary could see that Jemmy was enjoying teasing her.
‘Why, of course there is, madam. But the beasts are accustomed to being driven out at dawn and in at sunset, and they resist any change in their routine. It takes as many men and dogs as may be to round them all up and keep them together. It is the greatest amusement, I assure you. The beasts run about, and the dogs bark, and the men shout, and there is a terrible din. One man was knocked clean into the river by a panicking ox, and was almost drowned before anyone noticed and fetched him out.’
‘I should have thought that the commoners would have provided all the labour necessary,’ Lady Dudley said icily.
Mary interposed gently, saying, ‘Why, madam, I am sure Mr Morland had some reason other than enjoyment to be there.’
She felt Jemmy looking at her again, though she hid her face from him, concentrating on the thorough scratching of Fand’s head and ears. The hound closed his eyes in utter bliss, resting the weight of his head in Mary’s lap. It was not often anyone went to these lengths to discover the delicious places in the hollows of his ears and jaw.
‘You are right, madam,’ Jemmy said. ‘It is a good opportunity to check on what animals are using the common grazing, to make sure that each man is grazing no more than the proper number, and to see that there are no serious diseases. Sometimes my father sends the bailiff to do it, but this year he asked me to go. It is as well that I should see these things for myself at least once in my life.’
Mary admired the subtlety of the speech, by which he reminded Lady Dudley that his father was arbiter of all their fates, and that one day he would be Master. Lady Dudley had nothing more to say. She gave a kind of muted snort, and went back to her work. Jemmy finished his buttermilk, and then studied Mary again, covertly. She had supported him against her duenna; the dog certainly loved her; and she looked very well this morning. Perhaps there might be some way of making contact with her. They had been married almost four months, and had hardly spoken to each other. As he continued to look at her, she looked up from under her eyelashes at him, and he could swear she almost smiled. He had an idea.
‘Madam,’ he said gently, ‘if I could tempt you to leave down your work for a moment, there is something which I would like to shew you.’
Before Mary could answer, Lady Dudley said sharply, ‘Lady Mary cannot possibly go out in the heat of the day. I wonder you should suggest it, sir.’
Jemmy smiled pleasantly. ‘I do not, madam, I assure you. I intend to take her only to the stables, quite in the shade.’
It would have to be the stables, Mary thought, with a sinking heart. Of course it would have to be something to do with horses – he probably wanted to shew her one of his racing-horses, a huge and snorting, unpredictable beast, with teeth like a crocodile and hooves like a ploughman’s beetle.
‘The stable, sir!’ Lady Dudley quivered, managing to make five inflections of disapproval in one word.
Mary decided it was time to act and, her heart beating at the enormity of her own defiance, she jumped up and said, ‘Indeed, sir, I shall be glad to come.’ She gazed at the dowager with a mixture of beseeching and defiance.
Jemmy jumped to her aid, standing up and saying, before Lady Dudley could open her mouth, ‘There is no need in the world for you to disturb yourself, madam. We shall be gone but a few minutes. Come, Mary.’
He had never called her by her name before. Without looking at Lady Dudley, she hurried after her husband, the dog Fand jumping about them, butting at their knees. Mary could feel her heart beating with a mixture of fear and excitement. I will not shew my fear of the horses, she told herself over and over. I will appear interested and pleased. They passed through the great hall, out of the open front door, across the briefly blinding heat of the courtyard, and in by the cool dark mouth of the stable building. There, the strong smell of horses and clean straw assailed Mary’s nostrils, and she dug her nails in her palms for courage.
The long, cobbled passageway that ran behind the stalls was swept spotlessly clean, and there was no need for her to fear for her dress, as of course Jemmy had known. But most of the stalls were occupied, and a row of gleaming rumps and swishing tails presented themselves, a gauntlet of hooves to be run. Jemmy was leading the way unconcernedly along them, and the dog was nudging at her hand, and there was nothing to be done but follow. A brief daydream crossed her mind, of one of the creatures lashing out and stunning Mary, of Jemmy running to her, lifting her in his arms, crying, ‘My darling, my darling, what have I done to you? How can I ever forgive myself?’ and of Mary forgiving him, of course …
The last stall was not open, but enclosed by moveable bars so that the animal within could move about freely. Here it was that Jemmy paused, looking back at Mary, picking her terrified way along the passage, until she reached the safety of the corner of the building where she tried not to press herself against the wall. In the last stall was a horse, not a very big one; it was delicately built, with a pretty head, and its coat was golden, its long mane and tail a shade lighter, and there was a white mark roughly star-shaped on its forehead.
The horse whickered a greeting as Jemmy appeared, and Mary, despite her fear, noticed that it had large, friendly-looking eyes, and that when Fand ran under the rails the horse lowered its nose to greet the dog.
‘This is Leppard,’ Jemmy said, putting a hand under the horse’s neck to scratch its further ear. ‘We called her that because she was a great “lepper”, as well as being very fast. Unfortunately, she strained herself trying to jump out of a paddock, poor old girl, and now she’s no use for racing. But she’s perfectly all right for gentle exercise, provided she’s not overtaxed. She’d make a fine riding horse for a lady.’
Mary began to have an inkling of what was co
ming. Jemmy pulled the mare’s head towards him and rested his face against hers for a moment, and she made a chuckling sound through her nose. ‘It’s time you had a riding horse of your own,’ Jemmy went on. ‘Would you like to have Leppard?’
It was decided that the cool of the later afternoon, in the hour before evening prayers, would be a suitable time for Mary to try her new horse. Mary spent an uncomfortable afternoon, for nervousness always went to her stomach and brought her face out in itchy patches, and she had a very poor appetite at dinner. Lady Dudley was deeply offended by the whole business, and treated her with a lofty distance which normally would have upset her deeply, but on this occasion she could only be thankful not to have to talk. Though she had been but once or twice on a horse before, Mary had a riding habit, for in London it was what ladies wore to walk about the park. Sabina, who was more or less the same size, lent her a very handsome pair of soft leather riding boots, her riding gloves, and a hat which only wanted retrimming to be very smart.
When the hour came, a number of people had gathered to see the sport. The servants, in their usual mysterious way, had gathered a good deal more about t’young mistress than her husband had, and they knew that she was terrified of horses, and there were consequently a number of them lingering near by, industriously picking up kindling or investigating the soundness of the fence-posts or gathering moss for the kitchen. Matt, looking strangely shrunken in the open air and daylight, for Mary normally only saw him at night by candlelight, had strolled down to watch, and Charles and Allen had arrived good and early and got themselves seats on the paddock fence where they were swinging their legs and peeling withies. To Mary’s distress, at the last moment Marie-Louise appeared, towing a nursemaid and followed by Alessandra.
‘They brought a message to say Jemmy couldn’t give me my lesson because you were going to try your new horse,’ she said as soon as she was within earshot, ‘but I thought if I came down there might be time for him to teach me when you’ve finished. I don’t suppose you’ll want to be up very long, will you?’
Mary nodded nervously, knowing perfectly well that the little fiend was hoping to point up the contrast between them by springing lightly into the saddle as soon as Mary had fallen out of it.
‘You are lucky,’ Marie-Louise went on, ‘having Leppard. She’s a marvellous horse. So spirited. Before her accident, only Davey was allowed to ride her, she was too difficult for the boys to handle.’
Just then Jemmy arrived, followed by Davey leading the chestnut mare, already bridled and wearing a sidesaddle.
‘Here we are, then. If you like her, we’ll get a saddle made for you, to fit both of you. It makes a deal of difference, having your own saddle,’ Jemmy said cheerfully to Mary. Davey, noticing her pallor and the pinched look around her mouth, spoke with a deal more sympathy.
‘Why don’t you take her around once or twice first, Jemmy, so that her ladyship can see how quietly she goes? I’ll just slip the saddle off, and you can jump up bareback.’
‘Good idea,’ Jemmy said. In a moment the mare’s golden back was naked, and with the beautiful ease of the expert, Jemmy had taken the reins and vaulted lightly astride her, his long legs dangling below the level of her belly. ‘Come on then, lady, shew your paces,’ he said to the mare, and wheeled her round and trotted her into the paddock. Round and round they went, walking, trotting, cantering, circling one way then the other, and finally halting true and square before Mary and backing neatly four paces. ‘You see,’ Jemmy said triumphantly. ‘She’s so light in hand, she almost hears your thoughts. Now you try her.’
The mare was saddled again, and Mary approached. She seemed very tall, even when Mary stood on the mounting block that two of the boys had dragged out. But Davey was close beside her, giving her a look of mingled sympathy and reassurance, holding the rein very tightly.
‘She’s as gentle as a kitten, my lady,’ Davey murmured to her. ‘She’ll do whatever you want.’
Mary gritted her teeth and mounted. Now she was a long way from the ground, swaying in the open air, with nothing but the pommel and the reins between her and disaster. ‘You take hold of a good piece of mane, my lady, then you’ll feel safer,’ Davey whispered kindly. Then he let go of the reins and clicked to the mare, ‘Giddap. Walk on.’
They walked forward, and made a slow circuit of the paddock, while Mary tried to accustom herself to the strange movement. The mare walked quietly, her head nodding as if she were reassuring Mary. ‘Yes, yes, it’s all right.’ As they passed the group by the gate for the first time, Jemmy called, ‘She’s wonderful, isn’t she?’
Mary nodded grimly. After the second circuit, she began to feel she might survive the ordeal. After the third circuit, Marie-Louise said, ‘It’s like a funeral procession. Why doesn’t she try a canter?’
‘Good idea,’ Jemmy said, ‘try a canter now, Mary!’
Mary opened her mouth to suggest enough was enough, but Leppard, hearing the word canter spoken in the master’s voice, obeyed and sprang lightly forward. Mary jerked backwards in the saddle, and was only saved from falling off by the lock of mane clenched between her fingers. She lurched forward, dropped the reins, fumbled for them, and hung on as if her life depended on it. Leppard, enjoying herself, cantered round and round the paddock, passing the gate again and again. The reins were lying loosely on her neck, for Mary had no thought other than to stay on at all costs. Every time they passed the group of onlookers she hoped the horse might stop, but round she went again. Mary had the impression they were calling to her, but she could not have distinguished their words, or obeyed any instructions they might have been giving her. At last the mare tired of the game and, coming back to the gate for the seventh time, she skidded abruptly to a halt and Mary lurched forward again, banging her nose painfully on the mare’s neck.
Slowly her breath came back. Through the tears in her eyes from the bang on her nose, she saw Marie-Louise smiling with malicious glee, Davey looking anxious, the stable boys amused, and everyone else talking unconcernedly amongst themselves about the mare’s good qualities. Jemmy came up and took the rein.
‘You must have liked her,’ he said. ‘I thought you would never stop. Have you had enough now, or do you want to go round again?’
His face was innocent of guile. He evidently thought she had been cantering round in sheer delight. Breathlessly she shook her head, and was so eager to dismount that Jemmy was not ready for her and almost dropped her. Davey came and took the mare from Jemmy, and gave Mary a look of sympathy in passing.
‘She’s a lovely ride, isn’t she?’ Jemmy was saying in honest pleasure. ‘Do you like her? Shall she be yours?’
Safe on firm ground again, Mary could afford to dissemble. ‘She’s lovely,’ she said firmly.
‘Then she’s yours,’ Jemmy said. Marie-Louise pouted in disappointment. She had hoped that Mary would fall off, and Leppard would be given to her.
‘Can’t I have my lesson now, Jemmy?’ she cried. ‘There’s still plenty of time, and I’ve come in my habit all this way.’
Jemmy glanced towards Mary apologetically. ‘Do you mind?’ Mary shook her head. ‘Very well, then, Princess, let’s go and find you a horse.’
‘Can’t I have Leppard, since she’s here and ready?’
‘Leppard is Lady Mary’s horse now, child,’ Jemmy said sternly. Mary tried to smile. She had found her legs were trembling, and she was afraid they might give way under her.
‘Oh, that’s all right. I don’t mind.’
‘Just this once, then,’ Jemmy said.
The party broke up, some to stay and some to go back to the house or about their business. Mary walked back with the gratefully silent Matt, and after a while Davey caught them up. He walked beside Mary for a moment, and then murmured so that only Mary would hear, ‘It’s largely a matter of practice, you know, my lady. She really is a very gentle horse.’ Mary nodded, grateful for the sympathy. He went on, ‘If you like, my lady, I could give you a few lessons. Y
ou’d soon get the hang of it.’
She looked at him, startled. He smiled gently. ‘We could arrange it so that the master didn’t know,’ he said.
‘Oh thank you, Davey,’ she said, then, hesitantly, ‘how did you know?’
‘Through being frightened myself,’ he said. ‘When I was a boy, they looked so big and strong. But I soon learned they’re like big stupid children. I’ll shew you too, if you like, my lady.’
‘Thank you, Davey,’ Mary said again. He nodded and strode on.
Lady Mary was almost gay that evening. She put on her pale green gown again for supper, though Lady Dudley said the carnation-coloured satin would be more appropriate. For once Mary, to the silent admiration of Rachel, insisted on having her own way, and Lady Dudley retreated into a baffled and furious silence. Over supper everyone was in very good humour; for once Sabina stayed down for supper, and even Matt was almost chatty. The talk was all about horses and the forthcoming race-week, and though Mary as usual said very little, for once she did not feel left out of things.
She was able to eat a good supper, and Sabina said pleasantly, ‘My dear Lady Mary, you see the exercise and fresh air has given you an appetite. We must encourage you to ride regularly.’
Jemmy smiled at her with something like approval, and in spite of the close and icy presence of Lady Dudley, looming at the end of the table like a monument of disapproval, Mary said, ‘Thank you, ma’am, I think I shall.’
After supper everyone retired to the long gallery, which was more pleasant on summer evenings than the drawing room, which seemed rather dark when fires were not lit. Matt and Father Andrews set up the chess-board – the ivory and rosewood table with matching chessmen which had been in the family for over two hundred years – and Sabina said, ‘I think I must seek my bed, if you will excuse me. But why do you not play to the young people, Lady Mary? I am sure it would amuse them. There is plenty of music in the cupboard there.’
Mary blushed deeply, but was pleased to be asked, for music was one of the few things she excelled at. Before when music had been proposed it had been because Alessandra or Maurice had been present to provide it, and no one had ever enquired whether she could play. Jemmy now looked towards her with surprise and approval.
Dynasty 8: The Maiden: The Maiden (The Morland Dynasty) Page 8