Riding In the Sky Read online

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I had never heard of the Pretty Horse-Breakers until I did the research for my novel of this name.

  They were a phenomenon of the 1860s and the fairest of them was Catherine Walters, known as ‘Skittles’.

  Very talented and a fantastic rider with a natural gaiety she was born in humble circumstances in Liverpool. On coming to London she worked for a fashionable livery stable in Bruton Mews adjoining Berkeley Square.

  A year later she became the mistress of the Marquis of Hartington, heir to the seventh Duke of Devonshire, who gave her a house in Mayfair and two thousand pounds a year for life.

  She eclipsed even the Achilles statue in Hyde Park as the centre of attention – she halted the traffic in Hyde Park and her clothes and hats were copied even by Society women.

  Like all the Pretty Horse-Breakers, she could sail over a high jump as if she had wings. For a one hundred pound bet she jumped a high railing in Hyde Park and also an eighteen foot water jump at the National Hunt Steeplechase at Market Harborough, when she was larking about on the course after the racing had finished and three other riders had failed.

  Chapter one 1874

  “Filipa! Filipa!”

  Sir Mark Seymour’s voice seemed to ring through the empty house and, after a pause to listen, he shouted again,

  “Filipa!”

  “I am coming!”

  The voice that answered him was sweet and very musical and a moment later Filipa appeared at the top of the ancient stairway.

  “Oh, there you are!” her brother answered.

  She started to run down towards him.

  “Mark! I was not expecting you! Why are you here? What a lovely surprise!”

  “I want to speak to you, Filipa,” he said as he kissed her.

  He spoke in such a serious tone that she looked at him enquiringly.

  They walked across the hall in silence and went into the drawing room, which overlooked the untended but still beautiful garden.

  Mark closed the door behind him and Filipa said nervously,

  “What is it? Oh, Mark, you have not come to sell anything else?”

  “No, not this time,” he replied and she gave a deep sigh of relief.

  When her father had died, her brother had succeeded to the Baronetcy.

  He had continually returned home to find something that he could sell that would pay for his amusements in London.

  Filipa loved her brother and wanted him to enjoy himself.

  She tried not to mind when the Queen Anne mirrors that she had known and loved from childhood were lifted off the walls.

  The massive Georgian silver tea service that was kept for large parties disappeared.

  Then pieces of her mother’s jewellery, which were more sentimental than valuable, were taken away to London.

  Now she sat down on a sofa that badly needed recovering and looked at her brother with questioning eyes.

  He was exceedingly smart and was in fact a very handsome young man.

  She could understand that at twenty-one it was very exciting to be one of the extravagant smart social set in London.

  The men spent their time gambling in White’s Club and buying horses at Tattersalls.

  They attended the balls and Receptions that were given every night by the great London hostesses.

  Sometimes Filipa would think a little wistfully that, if her mother had been alive, she too would have been in London.

  But she had already learnt from Mark that it would have been in a very different social set from the one he frequented.

  “What are the debutantes this year like?” she asked him, knowing that she should be taking her place among them.

  “I have no idea,” he answered. “I never see a debutante if I can help it. My friends and I concentrate on the sophisticated beauties and I can tell you there are plenty of them!”

  Filipa felt rather sorry for the debutantes.

  At the same time, as there was no money to launch her into the Social world, it would have been foolish to worry her head over them.

  Instead she was quite content to look after the ancient Manor House where she had been born.

  It had been in the Seymour family for three hundred years and she was happy riding the horses that her father had bought before he died.

  He, too, had been extravagant where horseflesh was concerned and she had always thought it typical that she had been christened ‘Filipa’, which in Ancient Greek meant ‘a lover of horses’.

  Of course she loved them and it was fortunate that she did because at the moment they were her only companions.

  Sometimes their neighbours invited her to parties.

  But after her mother and then her father had died, while Mark went to London, they found an extra girl an encumbrance rather than an asset.

  Moreover, as she was so exceedingly pretty, her contemporaries were jealous of her.

  She therefore, and no one seemed to worry about it, lived a very lonely and restricted life at The Manor, except when Mark came home.

  Her relatives did not worry about her.

  They thought that she was quite suitably chaperoned by Miss Richmond, who had been her Governess for the last ten years.

  She was a Bishop’s daughter, which qualified her to be accepted as a chaperone.

  Miss Richmond was an intelligent woman, but she was nearly seventy and spent a great deal of time either in bed or else closeted in her own sitting room.

  Filipa was left to talk to her dogs, two Dalmatians that had belonged to her father.

  She also talked to the horses, which appeared to understand everything she said to them.

  Now it was exciting because Mark had come back when she was least expecting him.

  She wondered a little frantically if there was anything in the house that he would consider worth eating.

  She was sure, however, that old Mrs. Smeaton, who had been with the family for twenty-five years and adored Mark, would find something palatable.

  She therefore composed herself to hear what he had to tell her.

  At the same time she was praying that it would not be anything upsetting.

  It seemed for a moment as if Mark was in some difficulty to find the words to begin.

  Then he said,

  “You have not heard that Kilne is holding a special horse rally at Kilne Hall tomorrow?”

  “Do you mean the Marquis of Kilne, whom you have often talked about?” Filipa enquired.

  “Yes, of course I do! And you must be aware that Kilne Hall is only about ten miles from here.”

  “Yes, I know that,” Filipa said. “But I have never been there because the Marquis’s mother did not call on Mama and I think Papa had a row with the previous Marquis in the hunting field.”

  “Yes, yes, I know all that!” Mark said impatiently. “But Kilne is a member of White’s and he has been kind enough to ask me to take part in an unusual race, which in a way will be almost a pageant.”

  “I don’t understand what you are saying,” Filipa protested. “It sounds a trifle mad!”

  Mark laughed.

  “Kilne always has original ideas, and his latest has certainly got all St. James’s talking.”

  “Explain it,” Filipa begged.

  “Well, Kilne decided,” Mark answered, and his sister thought that he was choosing his words rather carefully, “that it would be amusing for his stick-necked neighbours in the country to see how well the ‘Pretty Horse-Breakers’ ride and how attractive they look.”

  “The ‘Pretty Horse-Breakers?” Filipa repeated. “Who are they?”

  Mark glanced round the room before he replied,

  “They are not anyone you would have heard about even though they are writte
n up in the newspapers.”

  “What do they do?”

  “I should have thought that was obvious,” Mark replied. “They break in horses at the fashionable livery stables.”

  “I suppose somebody has to do it,” Filipa said in a practical tone of voice.

  “Of course and there are women of every sort and class to break in horses for the young ladies who like to trit-trot in Hyde Park.”

  “I thought they rode so well!” Filipa remarked.

  Mark laughed.

  “You would be surprised how badly a large number of them do ride! I was talking to the daughter of the Marquis of Hull a few days ago in Rotten Row.”

  He paused a moment and then went on,

  “You have never seen anyone more ham-fisted and heavy in the saddle!”

  “That is surprising,” Filipa exclaimed, “but go on.”

  “Kilne announced about three weeks ago that he intended to organise a horse rally to which we could bring our own horses to compete in various classes.”

  He stopped speaking and then added,

  “There would also, as I have said, be a race in which the competitors would be dressed up.”

  “It sounds fascinating,” Filipa said. “I do wish I could see it.”

  She spoke a little wistfully, knowing that it was something that would never happen.

  Mark had made it very clear that, since his smart friends would not be interested in visiting The Manor, they would therefore remain, as far as she was concerned, only names.

  There was a pause after she had spoken and then Mark said,

  “That is just what I was going to talk to you about.”

  “About seeing the horse rally? Oh, Mark, you don’t mean that I could be invited? I never dreamed that would ever happen!”

  “Now, wait a minute, Filipa, it is not a question of being invited and I suppose I had better explain to you what has happened.”

  He was speaking now in such a strange tone that Filipa became worried.

  He sat down beside her on the sofa and said,

  “Kilne’s idea is that the competition in this special race will wear fancy dress and each will be accompanied by the prettiest Horse-Breaker he knows.”

  “Oh – I see – !” Filipa said in a disappointed tone.

  “Kilne asked only fifteen men to compete, all of them members of White’s, and I was one!”

  Filipa clasped her hands together.

  “How wonderful for you, Mark! I suppose it was a great compliment.”

  “Of course it was,” her brother answered quickly. “The trouble is that at the last moment Lord Daverton, curse him, has stolen Lulu, my partner, away from me!”

  “Oh, Mark, how could he do that?”

  “Quite easily,” her brother said quickly. “He has offered her a diamond necklace to chuck me and ride with him.”

  “And she accepted after she had promised you to be your partner?” Filipa asked.

  She was trying to get the story straightened out in her mind.

  “Lulu told me late last night that it was what she had decided to do,” Mark said angrily, “and I could hardly believe it!”

  “But surely you can find somebody else to take her place?”

  “Not anyone as pretty as Lulu or who rides half as well, except of course you!”

  Filipa stared at him as if she had not heard aright. Then she said in a very small voice,

  “D-did you say – me?”

  “Now, listen, Filipa! A great deal depends on this race as far as I am concerned,” Mark said. “I very much want to be friends with Kilne and this is the first time that he has taken any interest in me.”

  His voice was envious and he continued,

  “He has the best horses, gives the best parties to which everybody tumbles over themselves to be invited, and he is, without exception, the best rider I have ever seen in my whole life!”

  Filipa heard the hero-worship in Mark’s voice.

  It was easy to understand, seeing how well he rode himself that he would admire any man who was a really outstanding rider.

  “Go on!” she prompted.

  “I was so excited,” Mark said frankly, “when Kilne invited me to take part that I bought a horse, a stallion, the most magnificent animal I have ever seen, but I have not yet paid for him.”

  Filipa gave a little sigh.

  She knew that if Mark had once again overspent and something else would have to be sold.

  “I was quite certain,” he went on, “that if I rode the stallion and Lulu rode a very fine and unusual white horse, which I found had just come into Jackson’s – ”

  He paused and then concluded,

  “Jackson’s is the livery stables I patronise. I just knew that we would certainly win, if not the first prize, certainly the second or third.”

  “Prizes!” Filipa exclaimed. “You did not tell me there were to be prizes.”

  “Of course there are to be prizes, not only for this race but for all the others. Actually the prize I am after is one thousand guineas!”

  Filipa gasped.

  She had not imagined that there would be prizes for private races.

  But she knew that one thousand guineas was an enormous amount of money.

  Not only was it by Mark’s standards, but even for people who were already wealthy.

  “The second prize is five hundred,” Mark answered, “and I was absolutely certain I would at least get that and the third is two-hundred and fifty.”

  “Do you have to compete as a couple?” Filipa asked.

  “I have actually had the outfits made that Lulu and I were to wear,” Mark answered. “Mine is that of a Black Knight of the time when our ancestors and, I expect, the Kilnes were fighting at Agincourt.”

  Filipa looked pleased and he added,

  “Lulu’s is all white, with one of those high-pointed hats that were fashionable in those days.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Filipa cried, “and it was clever of you to think of anything so original!”

  “It was actually Antony Chester who helped me with the idea,” Mark said honestly. “He is an awfully nice chap but artistic. He prefers painting to gambling.”

  Filipa thought that was very sensible of him, but she did not say anything and Mark went on,

  “You can understand that with Lulu chucking me at the last minute I shall still have to pay for my black stallion, my clothes, Lulu’s and the white horse I am hiring from Jackson’s.”

  “That must come to a – lot of – money,” Filipa stammered in a low voice.

  “More than I can possibly afford or find,” Mark replied crossly, “and that is why you have to help me.”

  “Naturally I will, but I cannot understand why you cannot find someone to take Lulu’s place.”

  She paused and then went on,

  “There are so many of these women you call the ‘Pretty Horse-Breakers’ who would be more experienced than I am at that sort of thing.”

  “All the Pretty Horse-Breakers who are really attractive have been booked,” Mark replied, “and none that are left would cause the sensation intended.”

  He spoke angrily and there was an expression on his handsome face that told Filipa how upset he was.

  He was, she thought, humiliated that Lulu, whoever she might be, had preferred Lord Daverton to him.

  She put out her hand and took her brother’s.

  “Don’t be so upset, Mark,” she pleaded. “I think Lulu sounds horrible.”

  She stopped speaking and smiled at him before continuing,

  “As you certainly cannot afford to give her a bigger and better diamond necklace than Lord Daverton can provide, I will do anything you ask me to do. But I am so afraid that I may let you down.”

  Her brother looked at her.

  “I was thinking the last time I was here,” he said, “that you have grown extraordinarily pretty.”

  He thought for a moment and then added,

  “It’
s a shame that you cannot be presented to the Queen and go to some of the balls in London.”

  He spoke as if he had thought of it now for the first time.

  “As I have no relative or rich Godmother to present me, I shall just have to be content with making my curtsey to the horses!” Filipa smiled.

  Mark laughed a little ruefully.

  “It’s selfish of me to spend so much money, Filipa, and I feel ashamed of myself.”

  “There is no need for you to be,” Filipa replied. “Papa used to say that every young man should sow his wild oats and that is what you are doing.”

  “Not very successfully,” Mark said ruefully, “when I cannot even hold the interest of a Pretty Horse-Breaker!”

  Filipa knew that she had been right in thinking he was really piqued.

  “I think it was disgraceful of Lord Daverton to bribe her away from you,” she said. “Why could he not find his own partner?”

  “As it happens, Lulu is so attractive that I am only surprised she was willing to look at me at all, especially when I cannot give her the presents she expects.”

  “Why do the Pretty Horse-Breakers want so many presents?” Filipa asked in a puzzled voice.

  As if he suddenly remembered who he was talking to, Mark rose from the sofa.

  “We have very little time,” he said. “If you are really going to help me, as you say you will – ”

  “You know you have only to ask.”

  “Thank you, that is what I hoped you would say,” Mark answered, “and if we win one thousand guineas, think how much we could do with it!”

  “The most important thing is that we could pay Miss Richmond and Mrs. Smeaton what we owe them,” Filipa said. “I am miserable when the first of the month comes round.”

  She suppressed a little sob before she added,

  “I have to keep promising that we will pay them more next month, then the next, and they are so – kind and – understanding about it.”

  There was silence before Mark said,

  “I swear to you, Filipa, I will be more sensible in the future and, if we do win, even if only the second prize, you shall have at least a quarter of it for the servants and the house.”

  “Oh, Mark, that would be wonderful!” Filipa said. “When you are not here to shoot the rabbits for us and the wild ducks that come onto the lake, we are sometimes rather hungry.”