Around the River's Bend (2 page)

Sabrina did not answer for a moment, but a light of mischief danced in her eyes. She thought hard, sitting still as Cecily finished her grooming, and then suddenly she laughed aloud. She had a round, full laugh—like a man's, in a way. When Cecily asked her what she was laughing at, she replied, “Oh, I'm just planning a surprise for Charles.”

“Wot is it, miss?”

“He's so stuffy. I like to shake him up now and then.”

“But he's dreadful rich, miss!”

“Yes,” Sabrina shrugged. “And I've often thought if he didn't have thirty thousand pounds a year, what a dull man he would be.” She got up and examined herself in the mirror. She laughed again. “Well, Sir Charles Stratton, you'll get quite a surprise when we have our riding date this afternoon!”

“Don't do nuffin' to run 'im off, miss. You done run off most every man that's ever come courtin' you.”

“I don't think I could run Charles off with a broadax.”

“He's fair in love with you, ain't he, now?”

“I don't know that for sure, though, do I?”

Cecily looked up, surprised at her mistress. “Why, what ever do you mean, miss?”

“I mean I can never tell whether a man loves me or my father's money.”

“Why, Sir Charles ‘as a pile of money of his own.”

“Not as much as Father has—and even if he does, he always wants more. He's a greedy beast where money's concerned.”

“Why, you mustn't talk that way about your intended!”

“I suppose not.” Sabrina reached out and put her hand on Cecily's cheek. “You're a sweet thing. It's too bad Sir Charles isn't in love with you. You'd make him a beautiful wife. Always submissive to everything he would suggest.”

“Me, miss? Lor!”

“
Lor
, indeed!” Sabrina smiled. She examined herself once more in the mirror. “No, I'll never know if a man loves me or if he loves my father's money.” The thought troubled her, and as she turned, it would not leave. For most of the morning, in one form or another, she thought about what it would be like to be loved completely for herself alone with no attention to that awful thing called money.

Sir Charles Stratton was not a tall man. Indeed, he was just an inch taller than Sabrina's five feet seven inches. As he came down the steps, Sabrina noticed that Charles was dressed, as always, at the height of fashion. He was overweight, and his face had an unhealthy, rather pasty look, but his clothes were always exactly right. He wore a cap-length redingote without a side seam and a narrow neckband hidden by a large bow. Over tight-fitting knee britches he wore high, soft leather boots, and he had swept off his beaver hat. He was smiling nervously, for something about Sabrina Fairfax always made him slightly edgy. Most women would gladly adapt themselves to his ways, but somehow he had never been able to find the proper submission in Sabrina Fairfax.

“Good morning, my dear Sabrina. A fine day for a ride.”

“Indeed it is. I hope the horses are spirited. Perhaps we can have a race.”

“You always want to ride full-speed ahead,” Charles complained. He shook his head as he surveyed Sabrina's costume. She was wearing a full-length coat that covered her down to her boot tops. “Come on,” he said. “I've got a full day planned. We'll be going over to have tea this afternoon with Sir Lawrence and his family.”

“Oh, Charles, they bore me stiff!”

Charles stared at Sabrina. “But—they're such
important
people!”

“Does that make them less boring?”

Stratton slapped the side of his boots with the riding crop he carried. “I say, Sabrina, I'll never in this world understand you!”

“You'll just have to try harder, Charles. After all, a woman must have her mystery.” Her eyes sparkled, and she said, “Come along. I'm anxious for the ride.”

Charles nodded and stroked his luxurious muttonchop whiskers. He seemed to be in love with them, for he could not keep his hands off of them nor the bushy mustache that covered his upper lip. Sabrina had once told Cecily that Charles looked like he was eating a muskrat with that horrible mustache. “You go right ahead. I have to give some instructions to the manager.”

“All right, Charles, but hurry.”

“I shan't be long.”

Sabrina gave scarcely a glance to the magnificent mansion that Charles called home. It was a large stone affair two stories high with a double set of stone steps leading to the entrance. The front had a doorway graced with pilasters and pediments, and the massive wooden door was flanked by large floor-length windows. When she reached the stable, she greeted the gnomish man that came forward knuckling his forehead and smiling at her.

“Good morning, Billy.”

“Good mornin', Miss Fairfax. Reckon I can guess which horse you want.”

“I'll bet you can. The liveliest one you've got.”

“That'll be Betty. She's got a mighty tame name, but she's got spirit—just like you, miss. I've already got her saddled up for you.”

Sabrina had a real affection for the groom. She usually paid no attention to underlings, but Billy had been a jockey and had traveled the world. He was far more interesting than his master. “I think Betty will do fine.” The two walked over to where the horses were tied just outside the stable, and Sabrina studied the sidesaddle on the mare. A smile turned the corners of her lips upward, and she said, “Billy, take that saddle off.”

“Miss?”

“Take that saddle off. Put a man's saddle on her.”

“But, miss—!”

“Quickly! Do what I tell you.”

Billy had learned long ago the futility of arguing with Sabrina Fairfax. He swallowed hard, then shrugged. “You'll 'ave to tell Sir Charles it weren't my idea.”

“I'll take care of that. Quickly now, before he gets back.”

It only took Billy a few moments until the horse was wearing the man's saddle. Billy had just finished tightening the cinches when Sir Charles came puffing down the pathway. “Well, are we all ready?”

“Oh yes, I'm ready.”

Sir Charles was about to say more when his eyes fell on the saddle. Instantly he grew angry, and his face turned red. “Blast your eyes, Billy, what were you thinking of? Where's Miss Fairfax's sidesaddle?”

“It weren't my fault!” Billy said indignantly. “She made me do it!”

Turning to Sabrina, Charles said, “What in the world—” His words were cut off, for Sabrina had been unbuttoning her long coat. She shrugged it off and then turned to give Charles a brilliant smile. The smile had no effect, but her costume did. Charles blinked and shook his head and then stood absolutely still, as if smitten.

“Don't you like my outfit, Charlie?”

“It's—it's—” Stratton could not think of a reply, for Sabrina's riding costume had robbed him of all words. Sabrina was wearing a pair of fawn-colored men's britches, tight-fitting and clinging to the curves of her legs, and a maroon coat that came down to her fingertips and was buttoned at her waist with one button. The curves of her figure filled the white silk shirt that she wore, and a man's black bow tie was fitted around her neck.

Sabrina could not keep from smiling as Charles stared at her in absolute shock. She saw that he was looking at her legs, and she laughed aloud. “Didn't you know I had legs, Charles, under those long skirts?”

“Sabrina, I'm surprised at you!”

“Women
do
have legs, you know, even though we try to disguise them. Come along. I'm ready for a ride.

“Give me a leg up, Billy.” She put her foot in Billy's ready hands and sprang up and threw her leg over. She fitted her feet into the stirrups and laughed again. “Now,
this
is the way to ride a horse!”

Charles Stratton sputtered, “But-but-you can't—”

“Of course I can, Charles. Now get on your horse.”

Charles Stratton knew it was useless to argue with this woman. “I'm glad nobody's here to see you in that outlandish outfit!” He labored to get on his horse and then kicked it into motion.

Sabrina spoke to Betty, then turned back and winked at Billy. “Thank you, Billy. You think I look nice, don't you?”

Billy glanced furtively at his master, then winked back. “Yes, ma'am! Top rate!”

“You see, Charles, Billy thinks I look nice.”

It took Charles Stratton a hundred yards before he could gain his voice. “People will talk if they see you like this, Sabrina.”

“Have you ever thought, Charles, how hard it is to ride sidesaddle? Did you ever try it?”

“Of course not!”

“Try it sometime. Now this is the way to ride a horse! I'm never going to ride that awful sidesaddle again.”

“But think of what people will say.”

“No,
you
think of it. I've decided to become a new kind of woman, Charles, and this is the first shot in my war.”

She touched Betty with her heels, and the mare shot forward. Charles kicked his stallion into motion, but he could not catch the fleet mare. He was not a good rider, and it was fifteen minutes later before Sabrina pulled up and waited for him. “You're going to break your neck riding like that—and you must not wear that outfit in public!”

Sabrina's face was full of color. The exercise had brightened her cheeks, and the thrill of riding astride had given her a new freedom. “Charlie, don't you ever want to break the rules?”

“Break the rules! Why, of course not! Rules aren't made to be broken.”

“Why are they made?”

“Why, because they are necessary.”

“I think most rules are foolish,” Sabrina said. She tried to explain the part of her that rebelled against the foolish rules she saw all about her, but she could not put her thoughts into words that Sir Charles Stratton would understand. He was a young man, only two years older than she, but his character had been molded by his position in life and by a rigid set of English rules. He had a typical Englishman's mentality, and finally Sabrina saw the uselessness of it. “Where are you going tomorrow?”

“To see a boxing match.”

“Where is it, Charlie?”

“They're holding this one down on the wharf on a barge.”

Sabrina turned and said, “Take me with you, Charlie.”

“Are you insane, Sabrina? Women don't go to boxing matches.”

“Why not?”

“Because they're—well, they're not suitable for women.”

“What's unsuitable about them?”

“Well, the language, for one thing.”

“I doubt if I'd hear anything I haven't heard before.”

“I certainly hope that's not true! You can't imagine how rough the talk is. Besides that, they're brutal, bloody things.”

“Then why do you go?”

“Why, it's sport, don't you see?”

That seemed to settle everything for Sir Charles Stratton. If it was sport, it was acceptable, and he could attend things as cruel as bearbaiting, cockfighting, dogfighting, or men battering each other into insensibility with a clear conscience. He liked his answer so well he said again, “It's sport. That makes it fine.”

“Why don't you try it yourself?”

“Me? Why, that's for another kind of man. The boxers are not really human, Sabrina. They're brutal beasts. Nothing but muscles. No mind at all.”

“I wouldn't think it would be very much fun.”

Charles spent some time explaining to Sabrina the attractions of the bareknuckled art of self-defense, but he was adamant when he said, “No, you absolutely must
not
go to a boxing match.”

Sabrina stared at him. The words
you absolutely must not
had always been a challenge for her, and although she said no more about it, her thoughts were on the event. She smiled to herself as she began to create a plan in which she could manifest the fact that she was a new kind of woman.

****

Sir Roger Fairfax had the same blond hair as Sabrina and big blue eyes. He was a busy man, always in motion, quick to make decisions, and often quick to rue those hasty decisions. He looked across the table now at Sabrina and said, “What are you doing up so early?”

“Oh, I just couldn't sleep.”

“You look very well this morning, Sabrina.” He noted that her green dress picked up the color of her eyes and felt a moment's pride at this beautiful young woman that was his daughter. He had longed for a son but had never had one. Instead, he had made Sabrina the pride of his life. The loss of his wife five years earlier had been a blow, but he had filled his loneliness by staying busy with his many interests. He enjoyed hunting of all sorts and sports, and he had even served a term in the House of Commons. He did not like the bondage of politics, however, for they seemed to interfere with the things he found much more exciting.

“How are things at the office?”

Sir Roger had been eating the kidney pie that the maid had set before him, and now he put his fork down abruptly and took a long pull of ale from the silver goblet. “Not very well, I'm afraid.”

Sir Fairfax had inherited a stockbrokerage from his father, who had made a rather large fortune in it. It was exactly the kind of activity that Fairfax loved because it involved taking risks. He had often said, “Let others take the short money and the low interest. I'd rather make a big killing. It's more exciting that way.”

Now, however, Sabrina's father looked troubled. “I must confess I've made a few bad decisions, Sabrina.”

“Are you in serious trouble?” Sabrina could not imagine a life that was different from the one she had. Money had never been a concern for her, because whatever she wanted or needed was always there. Her father looked worried now, and she asked, “How bad is it?”

“Oh, you know how it is when dealing with stocks. You lose on five deals and then on one you get it all back plus a lot more.”