Joan Smith (20 page)

Before too many yards, I forgot about his mouth and turned my worries to saving my own head. On we galloped, past astonished riders and staring drivers, nearly overturning a dung cart that was coming toward us, leaving any drivers going in our direction in a cloud of dust behind us. The easiest, indeed the
only
course open to me was to let Diablo run himself to a standstill, though I did keep jobbing mercilessly at his reins. Eventually he began slowing down to a mere thirty or forty miles an hour, allowing Sinclair, following behind on Nancy, to draw up beside us, and shout various curses and imprecations in our general direction.

When at last I drew Diablo to a halt, I was utterly spent, exhausted from fear and excitement and plain hard work. I looked down to see Sinclair striding angrily toward me, while Nancy turned aside to search for grass at the roadside, all unaware of the scene about to be enacted before her.

Diablo, more interested in human affairs, looked quizzically to his master, to see if he was going to get the whipping he knew full well he deserved. My fingers went limp; the reins fell from them, and I slid down from the saddle. When I tried to stand up, my knees had turned to jelly, and I began sinking to the ground. Trees and barns and fields spun in giddy circles. Welland’s face was an angry black and white smear before my eyes. I was quite sure I was going to be sick to my stomach.

Before I had quite sunk into the dust, Welland was galvanized into action. He grabbed me tightly to prevent my falling. I heard his short, shallow breaths in my ear, felt his heart pounding and hammering against my breast, could feel my own heart, which had mounted up into my throat, beating wildly. I closed my eyes and emitted a shaky, uneven sigh. A soft, violent curse was whispered into my ear. I shan’t scandalize you by repeating it, but it had to do with insanity in the canine kingdom, female branch. I rested my head against his shoulder till the nausea passed, then a moment longer to give him time to worry about me, before I looked up. All the while we were under the observation of passersby, with carriages slowing to a crawl, and one outsized man on a small mule stopping entirely to stare.

“I did it!” I said triumphantly.

More profanity followed, heavy, professional, mouth-filling profanities. I expect he learned such heady language at Oxford. “I should have known better!” he shouted when he had simmered down to a bubbling fury. “How
dare
you subject a valuable mount that does not belong to you to such a risk!”

“Risk? You assured me he could do it.” My throat was too dry to say more.

“There’s an inn,” he muttered. It was only a few hundred yards beyond.

“A glass of ale,” I replied, swallowing painfully with my dry throat.

He submitted, still trembling with anger, to this idea. I took one step and tumbled against him. Only then did he bother to inquire whether I had hurt myself, did it in a curt, abrupt way that did much to return my circulation to normal.

“Not in the least. It was delightful, till you came along and upset Diablo.” Diablo, listening, whinnied in offense as Sinclair took up his rein to lead him along with us.

“You’re going to get a good beating too, when I get you home,” the gelding was told. You will find it difficult to believe the animal laughed out loud, but his snort sounded very humanly amused at the threat.

I wrenched my arm free of his grudging support and increased our pace. When the mounts had been stabled and we were ensconced in a private parlor, some semblance of rationality crept into our discourse. “What were you doing coming from the west? You were supposed to be at Winchester.”

“We changed our minds. Peter remembered he had already seen the cathedral, and we went west instead.”

“Where did you go? Where is Peter? Why did you come back?”

“We were going to see a cockfight. It occurred to me about an hour after I left that you might decide to use Diablo for the jump, and I came straight back. Peter went on to see the fight. Now that we have
that
straightened out, I would like to hear the explanation for your
audacity
in taking Diablo without my permission.”

“Why, Welland, how obtuse of you. I took him for the same reason you took Nancy,
without permission.”

“Not
for the same reason. I took Nancy to save your life.”

“That’s why I took Diablo, to save yours. I was ready to
kill
you, you see, till I realized you had left Diablo for me to use instead. You assured me, if you will hark back to last night, that he could do it from a standstill. I can’t verify the point. We took a good run at it.”

“If that horse is injured in any way
...
” he began, with a menacing scowl.

“Do you take me for a flat? We dealt famously together.”

“You were yanking at the bit so hard I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t got a split mouth.”

“He was just a little rattled toward the end, when you made such a foolish commotion, and frightened him. Pity, really. It went so beautifully till then.”

“What was I to think, to see a woman on a horse come sailing through the sky, about to land on my head! You should have had a scout on the other side, to be sure the coast was clear. And you should not have tackled it sidesaddle either.”

“I would have preferred to be astride, but I was afraid Napier would be back too soon.”

“How did Napier come to allow you to take Diablo out?” was his next angry question.

“Don’t blame Napier. I lured him off to Troy Fenners by inventing a message from Pinny.”

“Lies and deceit at every turn!”

“Quite true. Deceit on
all
sides, including your own. I don’t exclude Diablo either, letting on he was as tame as may be, till I got him out of the stable.”

A smile peeped out to hear this hint of trouble, so I was quick to minimize it. “I am greatly surprised, astonished he would let you mount him at all. No one but me has ever ridden him before.”

“I can’t believe my ears! You have forgotten the great and wonderful St. Regis for a whole second. Napier assures me you and your patron are the sole riders. He has done your boasting for you. Now you see you have been overly cautious, and can recommend him to all your friends.”

“At least it is over. I can stop worrying about it. How was the jump?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity longer.

“Perfect! I can’t begin to describe the exhilaration. You should have been there, Welland. It was like
flying.
I bet he cleared the roof by three or four inches. Auntie will know.”

“Lady Sinclair? Was she there?”

“Why, yes, she was,” I said, wondering what had become of her.

“Imagine that woman allowing you
...
” He stopped and shook his head ruefully. “As if she would have a word to say about it.”

“Or
against
it. You are behind on your snooping. Get into the scriptorium and read chapter eighteen at the next opportunity.”

“Her readers will never believe it,” he said, but really he was more interested in the jump and was soon back at it. “Did Diablo shy off at all, show any disinclination to taking the booth?”

“Not a bit of it. He has been wanting to do it for an age, I am convinced. He simply gobbled it up.”

“You are a lighter load than I. I wonder
...
”

“He could carry you over easily.”

“I believe the toolshed at home is as high, and certainly a foot wider. He took that without flinching. When do I try it?”

“Choose your day, and I shall be there to terrorize him for you when you land on the other side.”

“I am sorry. It was a damned idiotic thing to do, but really, it took me by surprise, and when I recognized you, I was afraid you’d break your head wide open. I hoped I would get back before you tackled it. I thought you would have more organization—men to clear the road, and preferably a doctor standing by.”

“Good God,
it was only a jump, not a duel!”

“It’s a duel now. You are not going to outdo me.”

“Rubbish. I am undertaking arrangements to jump Nancy over St. Paul’s. But first I must find Auntie. She will be worried.”

“Not she.”

Before many minutes, she came bustling in to the parlor, not at all worried, but only peeved that I had forgotten her. She was afraid I might forget those unforgettable sensations before she committed them to paper. Knowing she would be eaten up with questions that could only be posed in private, I suggested we leave at once.

“Right, and I shall ride Diablo,” Welland declared with an irate look.

“Go ahead, I have tamed him for you. You should not have any trouble.”

Auntie drove home in her carriage, while we went in advance on our mounts, discussing the morning’s events. It was clear from his questions that Welland intended to repeat my act. It galled him that I had done what he hesitated to. “Just do it,” I advised nonchalantly, making little of it. “I shan’t wait so long next time. It is the anticipation that is misery, not the doing.” He didn’t say a word.

“There, you see, it is not so very huge after all,” I mentioned, as we approached the booth.

“See if there’s anyone approaching on the other side,” he ordered, in his customary brusque manner.

I was delighted to comply on this occasion, for I had some hopes Diablo would be tired enough to balk at it a second time. There was no one coming. I rode up on the hillside to get a good view, to describe the sight for Aunt Loo. It was beautiful. I wish I were a painter, to have caught forever the graceful flowing form of steed and rider, sailing over the roof, with the tall willows swaying so peacefully behind. Diablo’s mane stood straight up, while his tail was flat out behind him. Auntie would like to have these details. Welland’s landing was rougher than my own, but I would not tell him so. I did not wish to spoil his moment of pure pleasure.

“Now
that
is what I call living,” was his simple statement when it was over. “I am sorry I waited so long.”

Diablo whinnied in agreement, with one of his peculiarly human sounds.

I made my account to Aunt Loo as soon as we got home, omitting nothing of either actual jumping or observations of Welland’s repetition. “I wish he had waited till I got up to you. Why did you not ask him to, Valerie? You knew I wished most particularly to see it. I was not in position in time to see you go over either. Fancy Welland being so dashing! The tail straight behind, did you say?”

“Straight as a ruler, and the mane standing up.”

“That does not sound convincing about the mane. Are you sure it was not flying out behind, like the tail, whipping Gloria in the face, and causing her to loosen her grip?”

“Straight up. Gloria did not loosen her grip.”

“You were not frightened at all, you say, when you actually left the ground?”

“I was exultant, Auntie. It was pure bliss. Like being kissed by someone very special.”

“Gloria would not know
that
before the last chapter, my dear! Though there is no reason she could not think of the jump when he kisses her at the end. No, I don’t like it. She should not be thinking of a horse when her hero holds her in his embrace. She ought to be thinking of stars and flowers and eternity, feeling just a little vaporish, but not falling into hysterics. That would not do. The sense of inevitability will be her saving. She will know this has been her fate all along.”

“Her hero would give her a good shaking, or a slap to smarten her up if she went off into hysterics.”

“Oh, no! FitzClement would never
shake
her, and never,
never
strike a lady! My readers would not like it. The villain might be allowed to do so; not the hero. Not in anything but a fast French novel. We have our
standards
to maintain, Valerie. I cannot think you are reading as many gothic novels as you should be.”

I promised to do better, and escaped out into the hallway, thence to my room to be quizzed by Pinny as to why I had sent Napier to her.

“I disapprove of the lackadaisical way you are managing your young man, Pinny. You must make a push if you hope for an offer before he leaves. He shan’t stay long, you know.”

“That’s true, miss. He says Mr. Sinclair has promised they won’t be here but another week at the outside. He has to get back home to get ready for his wedding himself.”

“That soon! He did not say so!”

“Happen you should be making a bit of a push yourself, miss,” Pinny said, with a frightened glance at her temerity. I glared. “Just joking, miss. I know you don’t really care for him, but Napier, he says Mr. Sinclair is always singing your praises. He thinks his master has
feelings
for you, miss, but we know he’s engaged, so there’s nothing to be done in that quarter. Will you be changing out of your habit now, miss?”

“Yes. I must wash up. I’ll have the white spencer and yellow skirt.”

“I’ve been aching to see them on you, miss. Are you going visiting, that you’re wearing that special outfit?”

“It is not a special outfit,” I objected, though I like it better than most of my gowns. The spencer fit closely, looking well with the bouffant skirt. It was not in the latest fashion, but what enhanced the appearance was preferable to the latest fad. Romantic was the word Mama used when I had it made up. It seemed a proper outfit in which to go courting Miss Milne’s fiancé. I had not realized time was pushing so hard at my back. Only a week in which to steal him from her. I hadn’t a moment to lose.

As soon as lunch was over, I had the whisky harnessed up to go down to the gatehouse. Auntie, having missed her morning writing session, was to lock herself into the scriptorium to put Gloria through her paces at the tollbooth. I met Welland on the road, coming up to call on me. I had been too quick to go after him. I would have preferred to let him come calling, but was by no means sure he would do it, so pretended instead I was just going for a jog down the road in the whisky.

“Too bad you have changed out of your habit. I was looking forward to a good ride this afternoon,” he said.