Time After Time (30 page)

The stranger dismounted. He was small, bent double from a life of labor, with sandy hair, and eyes and skin so close in color they appeared to blend one into the other.

Eyes flicking from one to the next, he studied the ragged foursome. Ellie suppressed a laugh at his confused expression. They were covered in dirt. She was a very unladylike brown, with scratched arms and callused hands. Wearing pants and standing next to Toby she could be mistaken for his twin brother. Her father had lost his bookish pallor. The only thing distinguishing him from Jimmy James was the gold chain of his pocket watch glinting at the waist of his filthy trousers.

“I was told ’is lordship’s ’ere,” the stranger said, chewing his thumb.

“Ah, then you wish to speak to me,” Lord Albright said, jauntily propping his shovel against the barn’s stone foundation.

“I didn’t ask for no trouble when I took this ’ose off his hands. You have my word on that,” the little man said.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Toby.

The man’s eyes never left Ellie’s father. “Your Mr. Lank give me this ’ose to shoe. He never come back for it, so I been keeping ’er. She’s a right dandy mare. You can’t blame me for wanting ’er, but I never broke no law. She was still yours for the taking.”

Ellie’s father dusted his hands and took the lead from the stranger. “Yes. Well, it’s very decent of you to bring her back.”

“You’ll tell the Bow Street Runners I’m clear? I don’t want no trouble. I’m not ruining meself for Mr. Lank’s mistake.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” said Lord Albright.

“Adin McCaffrey’s coming with the colt Lank left in ’is yard. He done nothin’ wrong neither.”

Ellie’s heart leapt. “Is that colt dark chestnut with white stockings and a star on his forehead?”

“Aye, that’s the one. But Adin’s coming any minute, I swear.”

“Edict,” she breathed. Edict was no Manifesto, but he was a lovely colt. His sire was Declaration, the same horse that fathered Manifesto. With Edict and Halfmoon back in the herd, she was sure she could resurrect the best of the Albright bloodlines not within two or three generations, but in one. “By God, we are back in business!” she cried. “Jimmy James, leave off that sweeping. Get stalls ready for Halfmoon and Edict.”

“Yes, Miss Ellie,” Jimmy James said, a wide grin folding his face into canyons. He took Halfmoon’s lead and walked her away.

The stranger scrambled onto his own horse and was about to ride off when Ellie caught the nag by the bridle. She looked fiercely into the man’s pale eyes. “I want you to tell all of Devon the Bow Street Runners are on their way, and I’ll be right there next to them. We’re going to take back every horse Lank stole. So if someone lacks a bill of sale with the Albright seal, they face the awful hand of the law. As far as I’m concerned, Lank is dangling from the gallows already.”

The stranger gulped, eyes wild, and looked at Lord Albright for support.

“My daughter means every word she says,” Ellie’s father told him. “You’d better be on your way before she squeezes a pony from your pocket.”

“Your daughter?” the man said, staring in horror at Ellie.

“Absolutely, my daughter,” he retorted with obvious pride.

The stranger spurred his nag in alarm and trotted swiftly down the drive.

“Papa, isn’t it wonderful?” Ellie said. She grabbed her father around the waist and forced him to hop up and down. She laughed, throwing her head back and leaping about until her straw hat landed in the ashes. Toby joined the circle and the three kicked and skipped like young rabbits.

A loud cough interrupted the celebration. Ellie turned expecting to see Edict led by another shabby little man. Instead, Hugh sat tall and elegant on Valaire.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

“I seem to have arrived on the tail of good news.”

Joy quickened her heart — an emotion followed swiftly by a wave of wrath.
How dare he show up clean, sleek, and looking happy
, she fumed. The hardship of the fields, the wondering if she’d ever see him again, loving him ’til it hurt … all her fears and the terrible toll of worry surfaced in a rush. Unable to sort her emotions, she ducked behind her father.

“Hullooo, Lord Davenport,” her father said breezily. “We just got one of our prized mares back and a colt on the way. Ellie’s a bit beside herself with the prospect of revitalizing the bloodlines.

“Daughter, why don’t you greet Lord Davenport?”

“Greetings, Lord Davenport,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Are you quite well?”

“Couldn’t be better. And you?”

“As my father explained, we are fine. We are actually wonderful.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“And our horses will soon be racing yours. Manifesto will have to compete with kith and kin, because the Albright stable will not be closing.” The words burbled out — she couldn’t stop herself. “We are working harder than perhaps other members of the British aristocracy. They may think it unseemly, but you’re a man who appreciates those who labor, those who — ”

Her father interrupted, patting her shoulder. “May I ask if you’ve a particular purpose to your call?”

“Actually, I’ve come to hire your jockey, Toby. You know, Toby, the
man
standing over there.” A twinkle lit Hugh’s eyes.

Ellie looked at her cousin as if he were a museum display.

Toby stepped forward. “That’s dandy of you, my lord, but I’m not for hire. You’re forgetting, I’m family.”

“Still, I’d like to speak with you.”

“I’d prefer not to,” Toby answered. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

• • •

Hugh watched the dirty band turn back to shoveling ash and bones from the decimated barn. He was furious with himself.
Why did I tease her now of all times?
Gad, she makes me lose my senses.
Dismounting, he tied Valaire to the stable yard fence, and stripped off his coat. He strode back to the group, grabbed the shovel from Ellie’s hands, and began tossing ash into a wheelbarrow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she barked.

“Toby,” Hugh said, ignoring her, “I’ve scratched Manifesto from the Haldon Gold Cup.”

“You’ve done what?” cried Ellie.

“He’s running the St. Leger in September. I’ve done my research. There’s a lot more money in flat race horses these days. I want Manifesto’s foals to be flat racers, but the stallion needs to win one first.”

Hugh shot Ellie a meaningful look. “And everyone says in a flat race Toby Coopersmith is the best jockey in England.” He turned back to Toby. “Will you ride?”

“No,” Toby said, not even looking up from his shoveling.

Ellie tried to wrestle her shovel back from Hugh. “You’re a fool. Manifesto could win the Haldon Gold Cup. He can’t win a flat race — he’s not trained for it.”

Hugh wrenched the shovel back. “He’s the fastest horse in England on the flat and over fences. I want him in the St. Leger.”

“You won’t win it,” Toby interjected.

“Why not?”

“Idiot!” Ellie fumed.

“Because there’s only one person in the world that can get that horse ready in time, and you’ve just sent her into a mighty froth.”

Hugh stopped shoveling. He drew himself up so that he towered over Ellie and fixed a steady gaze on her. She lifted her chin in defiance, hands fisted at her sides.

“Hmmm,” he said.

Ellie folded her arms over her chest and glared back at him.

“What would it take to get you to train the horse in Doncaster? You could keep the entire purse — three thousand guineas.”

“That’s too much money to pay a trainer,” Ellie blurted. “I’ll not take advantage of any man, and there’s too much work to be done here to leave.”

“Would you do it for a chance to catch Bergdorf Lank?”

She gasped.

“Chase said Lank bought a race horse. I have reason to believe he’s running the animal under an assumed name in the St. Leger at Doncaster.”

“With our money he bought that horse,” said Ellie.

“Very possibly, but the only way to catch him is to be there.”

Her eyes met his, and then she turned away. Walking in an agitated circle, she kicked a burnt log, splitting it into a cloud of black charcoal.

Steeling himself for the possibility that she wouldn’t come, he watched her carefully. Her white hair poked from a ragged ribbon. She wore her pants doubled at the waist and tied with a length of twine — all meat gone from her bones. She was dirty and wild-eyed, and by God … by God, he loved her. Maybe she had masqueraded as Toby out of love for Manifesto. Maybe the disguise wasn’t a ruse to lure him into marriage. And if that were so, it was his turn to use Manifesto as a lever to pry open her heart. “The horse misses you,” Hugh said, quietly. “He can’t be handled at all.”

The arrow had left the bow and hit its mark. He could see the tangle of loyalties clash in her mind as she looked to him and then at her father and Toby.

Lord Albright poked his shovel toward the sky. “We’ll be fine here. Bring Lank to heel.”

Still the girl looked undecided.

“Oh, la,” she said finally. “I’ll go.”

Chapter Thirteen

A few harried days later, Ellie stood on the quay, too thin but impeccably dressed. Never again would she appear before Hugh as anything less than a title with a talent for horses. The modiste, surrounded by a platoon of dressmakers and tailors, had created lavish riding habits of navy and forest green as well as travel costumes, walking dresses, morning dresses, and dinner garb. On this day she wore her favorite, a redingote of rose fabric trimmed in brown velvet. Her chin nestled in a frill of creamy ruched lace. Cleverly, the modiste had added dots of brown and rose embroidery to her white linen dress. If Manifesto kicked up dirt, it was less likely to show.

Delighted with herself, she tugged at a lacy sleeve when the Davenport coach rumbled to the edge of the dock. Attended by an entourage of resplendent footmen, Lady Davenport lowered a kid-booted foot onto the boardwalk. She was attired in crimson, topped by a bonnet of white plumes and ribbon. “What a dreadful lot of bustle and fuss,” she said, observing the cursing dockworkers.

Disdain melted from Lady Davenport’s expression, however, when she spied Ellie. “My dear, aren’t you the cleverest thing, able to train race horses, of all things. How I admire a girl with grit. You remind me of myself.

“Aren’t you proud of her?” she asked Ellie’s mother, bussing Lady Albright’s cheek.

“Of course.” Her mother beamed.

“And hullo, enchanting little Snap. I promise you’ve grown since I saw you only days ago.”

“You look like the ship,” Snap replied.

“I do? How is that?”

The little girl pointed toward a full-breasted figurehead on the bow of a sailing ship.

“Oh, Snap.” Claire said, shaking her head. “That’s not polite.”

Snap looked ashamed, but under her breath she murmured, “She does, though.”

Quickly changing the subject, Lord Albright stepped forward and kissed Lady Davenport’s hand. “The sea air agrees with you, Madame. You look radiant.”

“Thank you, Lord Albright,” she replied. “And you all look … ” She surveyed Toby and the family. “Happy,” she said at last.

They were all a bit thin and brown. Their hands had become rough, and despite hard scrubbing, a hint of dirt lined Ellie’s fingernails. She’d taken off her kid gloves to install Manifesto on the ship. Now she wished she’d remembered to put them back on. “We’ve all been working so hard,” she said. “Happiness is our only luxury.”

Just then Hugh arrived on Valaire, and all thought of dirty fingernails vanished. His eyes sought hers in the small knot on the quay. A smile swept his face.
La, he makes my heart sing
, Ellie thought, smiling back.

The moment he dismounted, he came to her and kissed each hand more fervently than protocol approved. Ellie’s cheeks warmed, but the look on her parents’ faces remained merry. “Hullo, my lady horse trainer,” he said.

“And good morning to you, my lord horse owner.”

Snap sneaked up on him and gave his coattail a good tug. “You’ve got a scar.”

“Oh, Snap, really you are too impolite,” chided her mother.

“Would you like a look?” Hugh said to the little girl.

“Hoist me,” Snap replied, holding her arms up. Hugh lifted her to his hip. With the concentration of a general studying a tactical map, Snap traced the scar with a sticky finger. Hugh shook Toby’s hand. “Thanks so much for agreeing to ride,” he said. “Manifesto can’t miss with you in the saddle.

“By the way, where is the horse?”

Ellie stepped forward. “I loaded him when we got here. The less time he had to think, the better.”

“What a gift you have with that animal,” Hugh said, his voice brimming with admiration. “Half the dock hands would be dead right now if you hadn’t led the beast.”

“No horse can resist her,” Lord Albright said.

Hugh swung close to Ellie and whispered, “Nor man, either.”

“Miss Ellie, you’ll let me know when I have to board, won’t you?” said Mrs. Gower, a distant relation to Lady Albright, who’d agreed to chaperone. The robustly formed woman sat on a nearby bench fanning her sweating face.

“Of course,” said Ellie.

“It’s my legs, you know. Tired old things, they despise the sea.”

Claire dug in her reticule. “Would you like some soothing herbs?”

“Oh no, dear — none of your pagan remedies. Ellie will be good enough to bring me my sherry on board, so my legs will ride easy enough.”

Ellie bit her lip in annoyance. Waiting on Mrs. Gower would not enhance the voyage. The captain strode onto the dock, interrupting her thoughts. A stocky man, his face sported a set of thin, scraggly mutton chops. With a flourish, he produced an oversized gold pocket watch, squinted at it, and whispered something into Hugh’s ear.

With a nod, Hugh said, “Snap, my little peach fuzz … ”

“Is it time to go?” the little girl demanded.

Hugh hoisted her from his hip to his shoulder. “That it is, lassie. Help me gather the horde. Call them.”

“Hear ye, hear ye!” cried Snap. “Step right up and get on the boat! Hear ye, hear ye, Mrs. Gower. Time to board.”