Joan Wolf (11 page)

Grimes drew up his small, whipcord-thin body with pride. “Every master of foxhounds in the country wants a Weston horse,” he declared.

“That is amazing,” Jasper said. He looked at me. “You were such a faithful correspondent while I was in Spain, Annabelle, but you never once mentioned that you had gone into the horse-breeding business.”

Another groom came by, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with manure. We said our good mornings.

I said to Jasper, “I do very little breeding, actually. I mainly buy Thoroughbreds who have not been very successful in racing and retrain them to hunt.”

“Thoroughbreds?” Jasper said. His eyes moved beyond the stable building to the fenced paddocks, registering the clean-limbed elegance of many of the horses turned out there.

I said, “Today’s huntsman wants a horse that can go fast and jump high, and Thoroughbreds do both of those things very well.”

“Thoroughbreds are also high-strung and nervous,” Jasper said, bringing his eyes back to my face. “We used a lot of Thoroughbred crosses in the cavalry, but very few pure-breds.”

“Get working on the harnesses, now, Tommy,” Grimes ordered a stableboy who was raking the already smooth gravel.

The boy trotted off in the direction of the carriage house, and Grimes brought his attention back to our conversation.

“Miss Annabelle knows how to pick ‘em, Captain,” he said. “Then she rides them for a season and teaches them their manners. They turn out a treat.”

I had been considering all my horses on the walk from the house, and now I said to Grimes, “Let’s go and take a look at Snap. I think he has the size to carry Captain Grandville.”

Grimes looked thoughtfully at Jasper, then nodded slowly. “He’s in the second paddock.”

The three of us turned our steps in the direction of the graveled path that led out of the stableyard. Colorful herbaceous borders lined the wide gateway entrance to the stable-yard. We passed under the gate and turned west on the path to the paddocks.

Two of my mares were turned out in the first enclosure, and one came galloping up to the fence as soon as she saw me.

“Good morning, beautiful,” I called to Elf.

The dogs went over to sniff her.

Elf’s ears were pricked so far forward that they almost touched. The morning sun made her chestnut coat gleam like burnished copper. She nickered at me.

The second mare, afraid she might be missing something, came tearing up next to Elf. I had purchased her in the spring, thinking to hunt her this season. She was a dark dappled gray with a short back and a strong hind end. I thought she would have a good jump in her.

The two mares followed us as far as they could along the fence line, then stood watching as we stopped at the next paddock, where two geldings were turned out together.

“Snap is the liver chestnut,” I said to Jasper. The other horse was Topper.

We leaned on the fence, and the two geldings trotted over to us.

“You always did have a magical way with horses,” Jasper said as I rubbed Topper’s neck. “I remember the way your pony used to follow you around as if he were a dog.”

“Bounce,” I said nostalgically. “He was the most wonderful pony. It broke my heart when he died.”

Elf, disgusted that she was losing out on any potential treats, squealed, kicked up her heels, and bucked her way across the first paddock. The gray mare, whom I had appropriately named Shadow, copied her exactly.

Snap lunged away from us and galloped to stand at the fence that separated his paddock from the mares. He called to them, but they ignored him.

Topper nuzzled my hand for a treat, which I produced from my skirt pocket.

Jasper’s gray eyes were filled with amusement as he watched Topper poke his nose between the rails to try to get at my pocket to find another piece of carrot.

He said, “Tell me, Annabelle, what does your mother have to say about this business of yours? “

Grimes snorted rudely.

I laughed. “Grimes has expressed it very well. She doesn’t like it, but there’s not a single thing she can do about it.”

“Shall I just trot him around for you, Miss Annabelle?” Grimes asked.

“Do you want to see him move? “ I asked Jasper.

“Please.”

“Go ahead, Grimes,” I said.

Jasper and I watched as the head groom climbed into the paddock and made his way to where Snap was standing, still watching the mares. He attached a lead line to the gelding’s leather halter and began to walk him into the center of the paddock.

“I’ll get in so I can keep Topper out of the way,” I said to Jasper. I had to hold up my riding skirt to climb between the rails, but I was wearing high boots, so modesty was preserved. Once in, I took a firm hold of Topper’s halter.

Jasper had followed me in, and he stood beside me as Grimes trotted Snap around in a big circle in the center of the paddock. We both watched the Thoroughbred intently. Topper once more nuzzled my pocket.

“How big is he?” Jasper said.

“Sixteen hands.”

“He’s very nice, Annabelle.”

Topper snorted and tried to put his head down to graze, but I held tight to his halter.

“I hunted him last season,” I said. “He’s got a wonderful stride, as you can see, and a big jump. His major flaw is that he’s insecure. You have to be very clear with him, Jasper. He needs to know exactly what you want him to do all the time. He’s not a horse you can leave to figure things out for himself.”

Jasper nodded.

“I’ve hesitated about selling him because of that,” I said. “He could go very sour if he got the wrong rider.”

I motioned to Grimes that he could stop jogging. He slowed and began to walk Snap in our direction.

Topper put his chin on my shoulder and blew in my ear.

“What would you get for a horse like that?” Jasper asked curiously.

I hesitated.

Grimes was close enough to have heard the last question, and when he saw me hesitate, he said firmly, “Eight hundred guineas.”

Jasper’s head snapped around to me.
“What?”

I nodded with a little embarrassment. “Of course, I won’t charge you that price, Jasper.”

He was flabbergasted. “Do people really pay that much for
one
hunter? “

“For a Weston hunter they do,” said Grimes with satisfaction.

Jasper’s eyes went up and down the acres and acres of paddocks, each of them containing two horses. “Are all of these horses worth that much? “

“Of course not,” I said. “The carriage horses aren’t worth that, or the hacks. Just the hunters.”

“And how many hunters do you have?”

“I usually keep sixteen,” I said, “but two of them are mine, and not for sale at any price.”

I could see Jasper totting up sums in his head.

“How on earth did you ever get such a lucrative business established? “ he asked me.

Grimes unbuckled the lead line from Snap’s halter, and I released Topper. The two geldings wandered off to graze. We began to walk back toward the fence.

“The biggest obstacle I had to overcome was my sex,” I said honestly. “Very few women hunt—well, you know that, Jasper. I believe that Lady Salisbury and Mrs. Farley and I are the only ladies who hunt regularly with established packs.”

The main reason why so few women hunted was the insecurity of one’s seat in a sidesaddle. I rode astride when I hunted, with a medium-full skirt over a pair of breeches.

“Good God,” Jasper said, “don’t tell me Lady Salisbury is still hunting? She must be at least a hundred years old!”

I grinned. “Not yet. She is quite blind, however. Gerald and I hunted with her pack last year and a groom holds her horse on a leading rein.”

“She’s blind and she hunts?”

“When they came to a fence, the groom shouts, ‘Jump, damn it, my lady,
Jump,’
And she does.”

“Amazing,” said Jasper, laughing and shaking his head.

I leaned my shoulders against the fence and went back to answering his question. “When I first realized that I had a few nice hunters I could sell, no one wanted to buy them from a woman.”

Snap was back at the fence that was next to the mares. They were still ignoring him.

I looked up at Jasper, who was standing at right angles to me, facing the mares. “It was very frustrating, I can tell you that.”

He was watching Snap, “How did you overcome the prejudice?” he asked.

“Perseverance,” I replied.

Grimes was not about to let me get away with such a minimal reply. “She hunted with the Quorn,” he said to Jasper. “Took four Thoroughbreds and went up and by damn hunted with Assheton Smith himself. He didn’t want her at first. Ended up giving her his hunting button, inviting her back, and offering to buy two of her horses!”

Jasper grinned at me. “Good for you, Annabelle.”

I smiled back. “In the hunting world, if the master of the Quorn approves of you, you are golden. I haven’t had any trouble selling a horse since.”

“Would you like to try him, Captain?” Grimes asked. “I can have him saddled for you.”

Jasper hesitated.

“Yes, do that, Grimes,” I said. “And have Topper saddled as well. The captain and I will ride out together.”

Grimes nodded and climbed out of the paddock to walk back to the stable. He would have two grooms bring saddles out to the paddock.

Once Grimes was out of earshot, Jasper said to me, “My father can’t possibly pay eight hundred guineas for a horse, Annabelle!”

“I said I wouldn’t charge eight hundred to Uncle Adam.”

Jasper’s eyebrows were drawn together. His mouth looked hard. For a moment there was nothing in his face of the boy I had grown up with. He said, “I will not permit you to take a loss on your horse.”

“I bought Snap a year ago for a hundred guineas,” I said frankly. “I won’t take a loss on him.”

The gray eyes rounded in astonishment, and he was once more the Jasper I knew.

“In one year you can make a profit like that?”

“He looked perfectly awful when I picked him up. All his ribs were sticking out, poor thing. He was nothing like the horse you see before you now.”

We both looked at Snap, whose burnished dark coat shone with red in the bright sunlight. He walked along the fence line, following the mares, and we could see the muscles flex under his skin.

“What did Gerald think of his wife being in business?” Jasper asked. “He was always such a stickler for how things looked, and there’s no denying that what you have here is a business, my dear.”

I shifted my shoulders into a more comfortable position. I said easily, “Oh, Gerald and I never interfered with each other.”

Jasper’s gray eyes regarded me gravely.

“It has become
fashionable
to have a Weston horse, Jasper,” I explained. “Gerald might not have been keen on my horses when I first started selling them, but he soon came around.” I shrugged. “You know how affable Gerald was. Nothing ever put him out of countenance for long.”

“There was no reason for Gerald not to be affable,” Jasper said austerely.

“He was a man who preferred to be happy,” I returned. “There is a great deal to be said for such a temperament.”

In the next paddock the mares began to graze. Snap still stood at the fence line, watching.

“Poor fellow,” Jasper said strangely, “I know just how he must feel.”

Chapter Eight

When Jasper and I got back to the house, the curricle was standing at the bottom of the front steps with a groom holding the horses’ reins. Inside we found Stephen in the front hall making his good-byes to Uncle Adam and Aunt Fanny. His portmanteau was lying next to the front door.

“Haven’t you left yet?” I asked.

Stephen just looked at me.

The atmosphere in the hall was not friendly, and Adam said with forced lightness, “Jem Washburn stopped by to see Stephen and me this morning, Annabelle, and we spoke for some time about his taking over his father’s lease.”

I could feel my back go rigid. I did not want Jem Washburn in my house.

Stephen was watching my reaction, but when he spoke it was not to me, but to Adam. “I will make a start on the estate books as soon as I return, Uncle Adam. I assure you, I do mean to assume my responsibilities.”

Adam looked at him in obvious surprise.

“I actually do know how to read account books.” Stephen’s smile deliberately did not include me. “That is one useful thing I learned in Jamaica.”

Adam said, “My accounting system may be a little different from what you are accustomed to, Stephen.”

“We’ll go over them together, then, and you can explain what I don’t understand.”

Jasper said from the doorway, “Did you know that the curricle is standing in front of the house, Stephen? “

“Yes,” Stephen said, “I was just leaving when you came in.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “I did not know you planned to take the curricle,” I said.

Stephen had been walking toward the door, and now he stopped.

He turned.

He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I was led to believe that you did not use the curricle, Annabelle.”

His voice was courteous. Too courteous.

He continued in the same odious tone, “Would you prefer that I take the phaeton? Or perhaps the coach?”

In fact, the curricle had belonged to Gerald, and I never drove it.

“Oh, I suppose it had better be the curricle,” I said ungraciously.

Aunt Fanny wrung her hands, and Adam looked from my face to Stephen’s, clearly not understanding the tension between us. I glanced at Jasper, but his expression was impenetrable.

A footman picked up Stephen’s portmanteau to take it out to the curricle.

Jasper said, “I’ll walk out with you, Stephen.”

Stephen nodded and once more said good-bye to Aunt Fanny and Uncle Adam. For a brief, charged moment our eyes met again.

“Annabelle,” he said emotionlessly, and turned to follow Jasper out the door.

I told myself that I was very glad to see him go.

* * * *

It was a Weston tradition, begun by Gerald’s father, for the earl and countess to hold an annual August festival for the servants, the laborers, the tenantry, the local townspeople, and the yeomanry. Like so many other English aristocrats, the earl had been horrified by the excesses of the French revolution, and this annual festival for the lower orders had been his way of showing them how different the Earl of Weston was from those decadent French nobles who had had their powdered heads so rudely parted from their necks.