Hall of Infamy (27 page)

‘Very good, Mr Hollis.'

Lord Alex guided her towards the other carts, which were gathering before a rope which was strung out across the path. Blossom trotted across to the far right of the field. The first corner of the course turned to the left, and so this was not the most favoured starting position. However, Blossom knew that Lord Alex was more worried about fouling wheels with less skilled riders, than being ahead for the first bend in a long and arduous course.

Everything was going splendidly. No one disputed their safe position on the right. The sun was shining, she could hear the hubbub of the watching crowd above them on the lawns. Best of all she knew, in her heart, that she could beat the rest of the field.

‘What is the hold up, Mr Hollis?' Lord Alex bellowed, so loudly that Blossom saw Connie, to her immediate left, flinch, and heard her mistress curse as she struggled to hold the skittish girl in place.

‘Just one rider to come, your Lordship.'

‘What? Who? Who the devil else is taking part?'

‘Ah, here he comes, your Lordship! Now we can get off.'

Blossom sensed as much as heard the stir around her, as riders and mounts craned to see the newcomer. To curses from Lord Alex, the newcomers eased into position on her right. Blossom stared, astonished. Level with her was a woman like no other she had ever seen. The girl was black, with sleek ebony skin, and elaborately braided hair. Her breasts were big, and jutted forward with an almost pneumatic vigour, counterbalanced by an extraordinarily well-developed bottom. It was not these endowments that compelled Blossom's attention, however, but her thighs. The girl was not so tall as Blossom, nor her legs so long, but her thighs were splendidly muscled and looked ominously fit.

‘I do hope you were not going to start without me,' an amused male voice drawled.

There was a rueful chuckle from behind her. ‘I might have known that you had something up your sleeve when you bet so much against me. Well, I'll be damned if I let you win today. Prepare to say goodbye to a hundred guineas, Jack!'

The stir produced at the starting line by the new arrivals was mirrored amongst the audience of picnickers on the slopes above.

‘I say, is that Jack Campion?' Lady Alicia said. ‘You know, I do believe it is. But who is that magnificent girl between his shafts? I swear those titties jut out further than our Betsy's do.'

Lady Alicia put her field-glasses to her eyes, but the scene below was near enough that the amazing figure of Jack's pony-girl was evident to the naked eye. Jack Campion raised his Panama in the direction of Lady Alicia, who burst into a peal of delighted laughter.

‘Oh my, that man is such a devil. If he wins with that exotic creature, Alex will not be fit to speak to for a week. He has bet Blossom against a hundred of Jack's guineas, you know. That husband of mine never seems to learn that it does not pay to gamble with our Jack!'

‘But he has not lost yet,
cherie
,' Mademoiselle Isobel put in, ‘and everyone says that Blossom is the fastest filly that was ever entered for the cup.'

‘Hm,' Lady Alicia said, passing the glasses to her friend. ‘I suspect that “everyone” has not seen Jack's girl run. He must have been keeping her hidden in the lodge, and exercising her in secret. Now why, do you suppose, would the sly old dog do that?'

The back-board, and her wrenched-back arms, were causing Amelia serious discomfort now. She shifted surreptitiously to try to ease the strain. Unfortunately, she moved her legs an iota too much in the process, and the action produced a moist and rubbery squeak.

‘Amelia, do stop fidgeting, or I shall ask Lady Alicia to spank you,' Jamie said sharply.

Amelia felt her aunt, who must have leant forward, take a handful of her hair and wrench her head back until she could see Lady Alicia, upside down, smiling wickedly at her.

‘I think I shall have to thrash you later, anyway, Amelia.' She produced the little paddle with the holes which she had used on Clara to such evident effect. Maintaining her grip, she patted the whimpering girl's cheek with the paddle. It felt hard and cold and unspeakably mean.

‘
Cherie
, they are taking positions.' Isobel's voice brought merciful relief, as Lady Alicia released her hold and Amelia resumed her position, blinking back a tear.

‘The course is clearly marked. Up Holly Hill, through the rhododendrons, around the back of the stable-block—'

Blossom shook her head impatiently. She had run the course scores of times and needed no reminders. Glancing sideways, she met the gaze of the black girl to her right. It was hard to tell, with the bit and bridle harness, but she thought that the young woman smiled.

Mr Hollis, the stationmaster, was clearly relishing his chance for importance, and he took his time in detailing the course.

‘The course goes around the walled garden, and down the slope in front of the house, back to here. Two full circuits complete the race.' He had been addressing the riders up to this point, but now he put his hands in his waistcoat pockets and assumed a satisfied smirk. ‘You should all know by now that all losing ponies will receive a thorough flogging,' he inclined his head towards the frame that had been set up, ‘in the traditional way.'

To her left, Connie whimpered. Blossom took a deep breath and put her head down ready. Mr Hollis gave the signal and a rope was raised across the course. Moving forward until her breasts brushed against it, Blossom willed the signal to be given, and the race to begin.

The stationmaster gave a sharp blast of his whistle. The rope was raised high to a roar from the crowd. Blossom powered forward, a tugging of her bridle forcing her to incline to the right. She wanted to run. She wanted to stretch her long, perfectly trained legs and leave the field behind, but Lord Alex kept her reins tight and held her back.

She followed Mrs Treadwell's trim back as Jack's black girl kept pace to her right. They made their way along the shore of the ornamental lake, a short but easy first stage that was nearly level. For all her eagerness to gallop, Blossom understood why she was being held back. Holly Hill loomed in front of them and, as the human ponies reached its sharp incline, the pace slowed dramatically.

The Reverend Dawes had taken the lead and the sound of leather on flesh, up ahead, demonstrated his determination to maintain a cracking pace. It was the next sulky that almost caused disaster. In front of them, Connie swerved violently, almost tipping Mrs Treadwell from her cart. The reason was immediately plain to see. Belinda had hauled Justice Ormorund's great bulk at a canter along the lakeside, but as soon as she had hit the steep slope their progress had slowed, almost to a walk.

Blossom felt her bit pulled to the left and she turned quickly, overtaking the semi-stranded sulky with consummate ease. Jack and his pony-girl had done the same, but to the right. Mrs Treadwell was trying to control Connie, who had bolted right off the path and onto the grass slopes.

Soon she was shoulder to shoulder with the black girl once again, the two of them slowly gaining on the Reverend and his mount.

‘Giddup!' There was a crack as the Reverend Dawes belaboured his pony's bare bottom with his thin black crop. ‘Go on, girl, you can do it. Giddup! Giddup! Giddup!'

The flogging produced a spurt of speed and the sulky in front began to pull away. Blossom wanted to increase her speed but the tight rein held her back.

‘Steady, Princess! Whoa, girl, easy,
whoa
!'

It seemed that she was not the only pony-girl who was being held back. The two kept pace with each other as the slope levelled off. Through the gloomy lanes at the back of the house, they ran. Here the path was lined with glossy-foliaged rhododendrons and camellias. There was a maze of paths here, but the wrong turnings had been ribboned off. Princess moved into the lead as they came in sight of the back of the stable-block. Blossom was running well and knew that she had strength in reserve, yet still Lord Alex held her back.

‘Oh, please, let me go.' Emma did not dare push the man's hand off her stockinged thigh but tried to back away, without dropping her tray of drinks.

‘Don't be shy, sweetheart.' The man, one of the gardeners, she thought, leered at her. He licked his lips like a hungry wolf eyeing a lamb. ‘I shan't eat you,' he said, as if reading her mind, ‘exactly.'

Emma took a deep breath and spun away. This time he allowed her to escape. Teetering on the unaccustomed heels, she tottered through the groups of picnicking people.

‘I'll catch you later, then!' the man called after her.

Some of Mademoiselle Isobel's shop-girls grinned up at her as she passed, horribly aware of the brevity of her little skirt.

‘Looks like someone has a date,' a red-haired minx chortled as she tottered by.

It was Emma's first time in the uniform that the maids called a “tutu”, and it was her first time in such perilous heels. Silver Cup day was not the easiest occasion to practise. In fact, it was proving to be a true baptism of lust. The crowd of men and women were getting increasingly excited, and the sight of the little maid in her revealing costume commanded much more attention than Emma would have liked. It had not been too bad while the race was still in sight. Now the sulkies had passed out of view, the revellers were looking for alternative amusement.

‘What a sweet little bon-bon, Alicia,' Mademoiselle Isobel cooed as she reached her goal at last. ‘Where have you been hiding this one, eh?'

‘Oh, she is our kitchen-maid. You must have seen her at church. We got her from the reformatory in May. A pretty little chit; she squeals most amusingly under the birch. Perhaps later we should see if we can make the baggage squeak!'

Emma blushed as she bent to serve the drinks, feeling the women's eyes upon her. The glasses rattled on the tray as she felt Jamie's hand on her bare thigh above the stocking-top. He pinched the tender flesh of her inner thighs, hard, as Lady Alicia took a drink with an amused smile. The little maid could not stop a moan escaping as his fingers probed the frills of her knickers until finding some buttock to pinch. She had nurtured hopes of a respite, once she had reached her goal, but this was almost as bad as being held up by those rough men.

‘Doesn't like the cane either, do you, pet?' Jamie asked. His fingers had trapped some bottom-flesh, preventing her from stepping over to offer Mademoiselle Isobel a drink.

‘Well, girl?' Lady Alicia looked at her with malicious amusement. ‘Don't you bother to answer your betters any more?'

‘No, sir, madam, I – I mean, yes, sir, madam… I—' Emma did not know which question she was supposed to answer and mumbled, red-faced and in complete confusion.

‘It seems she cannot decide,' Jamie said, releasing her bottom at last.

Emma winced and tottered over to Mademoiselle Isobel, who took a glass from the tray with a broad smile.

‘Then we must help her to remember,
n'est-ce pas
?'

‘But naturally. All right, Emma, offer Mrs Ormorund and the others drinks, then cut along to the rod room and fetch a nice whippy cane.'

Blossom was perspiring freely now, and her breathing was very heavy, but the months of training had paid off, and she was still feeling strong. They had run down the Reverend Dawes and his mount, in the long stretch of the course that looped behind the walled garden. First Princess had taken up the lead, and then Jack Campion had reined her in to allow Blossom to overtake. At first she was surprised, then she realised what was happening. Lord Alex and Jack had decided to work together to reel in the Reverend and his Rose. They wanted the latter part of the course free for their own personal duel. If one had made a break, the other would have followed, helter-skelter, but they were content, for now, to pace each other, and run down the cart in front.

This was not difficult. Blossom was the pacemaker as they emerged on the high ground above the lake. The drive wound down back to the starting point and she could see the Reverend and his girl in front. They were going downhill, yet the girl was stumbling. Blossom would have smiled if not for the bit. He had ridden her too hard, she realised; the pony-girl's breath was broken. No amount of fear or pain would get the rector up Holly Hill in front.

She could have overtaken on the way down. They had practised this, and many times she had hurtled down the slope at a perilous rate. To Blossom's surprise, Lord Alex reined her back, forcing her to keep to a safe controlled pace.

There was a roar from the crowd as each sulky came into view. At the bottom of the slope the driveway widened and Blossom heard, then saw, Princess pull up level on her right side. This time she was not reined back and she knew the pace making for each other was over.

They caught their quarry a little higher up Holly Hill than the place where they had overtaken Justice Ormorund. Rose was a fair-skinned girl and Blossom caught sight of a mass of livid welts on her pale bottom as she passed. The hill had stopped her almost as short as it had arrested Belinda on the last ascent, and they surged by.

Belinda and the Justice were still not much higher up. He had pulled her off the path to allow the frontrunners to lap him. Blossom heard some oaths and agonised whinnies as she passed, but it hardly registered, for now the race was well and truly on.