The Pretty Horse-Breakers Page 4

  “Who is she?” Mrs. Clinton asked.

  “She told me all about herself. She is an orphan of gentle blood, whose father broke his neck ten days ago. She hasn’t a penny-piece to bless herself with.”

  “That is not always a disadvantage,” Mrs. Clinton replied softly.

  “She is also as innocent as a newborn babe,” Major Hooper continued.

  Mrs. Clinton raised her eyebrows.

  “It’s true,” he said, seeing the disbelief in her eyes. “She has lived in the country all her life, her father was a recluse, a writer of some sort. She knows nothing of the world. I’m convinced she has not only never heard of the expression a ‘Pretty Horse-Breaker’ or the like but that if she did she would have no idea what it meant.”

  “It’s not necessarily a part of a young lady’s education,” Mrs. Clinton said with a smile.

  “No, but you know what I am trying to say,” Major Hooper said. “You will have to handle her with kid gloves or she will take fright. I swear to you, valuable though that horse may be, its value is increased a hundredfold when she is on its back.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Mrs. Clinton asked.

  “You must have her to stay here in the first place.”

  “That’s impossible!” Mrs. Clinton exclaimed. “You know I never have women in my house.”

  “This girl is different,” Major Hooper retorted. “As I have told you, she is a lady and I mean that. You cannot put her into lodgings or in some dingy hotel. For one thing she is far too pretty. Let anyone see her and they will be round her like flies round a comb of honey. The only thing that astounds me is that no one has discovered her before.”

  “She must indeed be outstanding to affect you in this manner,” Mrs. Clinton said in surprise. “I thought, Major, you were past being excited by the fair sex, knowing how much you have to do with them. At least that is what you have always told me.”

  “I would rather deal with a horse than a woman any day,” Major Hooper said. “But this is business, Mrs. Clinton, as well you know. I can get a thousand guineas for that horse if the girl goes with it. I might even try for two thousand. Our arrangement is as usual, fifty-fifty.”

  “What does she look like at the moment?” Mrs. Clinton asked.

  “Like someone from the alleys round Drury Lane, I have never seen such a habit as she is wearing, it must have come out of the Ark. I did not stop to let her pick up her other things – they would not have been any better. You will have to start from scratch, Mrs. Clinton.”

  “You really intrigue me, Major Hooper. It is not often I am interested in such propositions these days. I have my hands full and, as things are, there are more doves about waiting to be soiled than there are gentlemen looking for them. Of course the quality is not as good as it was when the Crimea War was on, the names on my list then had to be seen to be believed! But I am not complaining!”

  “I should think not indeed,” Major Hooper said. “Since it has become the fashion for the “Pretty Horse-Breakers” to meet at the Achilles statue my business has doubled, there was never a better shop window.”

  “And yet we have our failures,” Mrs. Clinton said gently. “Do you realise, Major, that the Marquis of Harrington has given Skittles an annuity of two thousand pounds – but he did not meet her through my introduction.”

  “I thought he did!” Major Hooper exclaimed.

  “Unfortunately not,” Mrs. Clinton said crossly. “Skittles was under the protection of someone I had introduced to her, but she had set her cap at Hartington. She contrived to collide with him and fall at his feet in Hyde Park, of all old tricks! She caught him right enough! She fancies herself as the future Duchess of Devonshire.”

  “You have to hand it to her,” Major Hooper ejaculated with a grin. “She’s never yet flunked a fence, however high!”

  “And the same thing has happened with Agnes Willoughby,” Mrs. Clinton continued. “She has recently married young Windham, who is mad but very rich. She has had the grace to send me fifty pounds for all I did for her. It was a gesture, at least, but Windham did not proffer me a farthing. Said he met her with Kate Cooke, who, if I am not mistaken, will become the Countess of Euston.”

  “Oh, well, I suppose there is an element of luck in your business as there is in mine,” Major Hooper remarked.

  “You may take it philosophically,” Mrs. Clinton said, “but I don’t. And I will tell you someone whom I would like to make pay and pay and pay!”

  “Need I guess?” Major Hooper said with a grin,

  “You know who I am referring to!” Mrs. Clinton said grimly. “Three of my best girls my Lord Manville has taken from me one after another. Mary, he set up in a most elegant villa, buying her three horses.”

  “Which he did not purchase from me!” Major Hooper exclaimed.

  “And she was so puffed up at his patronage,” Mrs. Clinton continued, “that when I saw her in the Park driving in the pony-carriage he had bought her, she looked right through me.”

  “I never did like that girl!” Major Hooper commented.

  “And then there was Clarissa,” Mrs. Clinton said. “I spent no less than one hundred and fifty pounds on that chit and his Lordship carries her off as brazenly as if he was a highwayman. Her sapphires were the talk of the town and not a penny-piece have I had from that investment.”

  “Well, if you want to put his Lordship in his place, here is your chance,” Major Hooper said. “There’s no better judge of horseflesh in the length and breadth of Britain. So listen, Mrs. Clinton, for we have not much time. I have an idea which should benefit us both.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” James said. “His Grace the Duke of Wessex is downstairs and craves a word with you.”

  “Show His Grace into the morning room and ask his indulgence. I shall be with him in a few moments.”

  “Very good, ma’am,” James said respectfully as he closed the door.

  “Now, tell me,” Mrs. Clinton smiled.

  *

  Waiting in the riding school, Candida grew a little afraid.

  It was growing dark and the school seemed full of shadows.

  She was suddenly conscious of how utterly alone she was. She was also, womanlike, aware of the contrast in appearance between herself and Lais.

  She was accustomed to think very little about her clothes for the simple reason that she had so few, but now she knew that her habit was a disgrace and her boots beyond repair. She thought of her hair pulled back into an untidy bun, while Lais’s had been plaited in a smooth elegant chignon.

  It was hopeless! How could she possibly manage in London? How could she even expect to ride Pegasus where there would be anyone to see them? She would be the laughing stock of any fashionable throng and, looking as she did, she would certainly not enhance the value of her horse.

  She felt a sudden surge of homesickness, not only for her father, who, even when he drank, had been kind and considerate to her but for everything that had been familiar – the shabby little house, Ned shuffling round it, Pegasus in the broken-down stable, the quiet, the sense of belonging to herself and being free.

  For, despite the lack of money, friends and clothes, she had been free – free to ride her horse, free to do as she wished. But now what lay ahead?

  She had a sudden moment of panic. Perhaps she should not have come, perhaps she should go away. Would her mother have wanted her to do this? And then she asked herself to do what? What did Major Hooper envisage for her? And what did she know about him?

  Impulsively she jumped to her feet. She moved along the gallery, down the staircase and onto the floor of the riding school. Her hand had actually gone out to open the door that led into the world outside when Major Hooper appeared.

  It was too dark for him to see her face, but he must have sensed her agitation because he said soothingly,

  “It’s all right, I’m sorry to have been so long. Come along, there is a lady who is goin
g to look after you. You can stay with her in her house.”

  He turned to go, but Candida did not move.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I shall not fit in here,” Candida said in a low frightened voice. “I think I had best go back to where I came from. I will find something in the country.”

  “Frightened are you?” Major Hooper asked. “Well, you need not be. It’s all right, you’re going to have a good life and a comfortable one. Listen, Candida, you are a very attractive girl. You will be admired, feted, made a fuss of – that is what all women want.”

  “I don’t think – I want that,” Candida replied slowly.

  “Well, what do you want?” he asked.

  “I think I want to be safe,” she answered. “I want a home.”

  “That will all come in time,” he said quickly. “Now, we can’t hang about. I’ve done my best for you and one day you will be grateful to me.”

  He put out his hand and laid it on her shoulder. She was shivering and he thought to himself that she was like a young foal finding its legs in a strange meadow, uncertain and nervous.

  “Come along, girl,” he said kindly. “The first fence is always the worst, you know that and you’ve got the courage to take them all.”

  “Have I?” Candida asked.

  “I’m prepared to bet on it,” he answered.

  She smiled up at him.

  “You must think me very stupid,” she said in a low voice, “but I am grateful for your kindness, I am really.”

  “There was really nothing else I could do, was there?” he asked and she wondered at the question in his words and did not understand the sudden doubt in his tone.

  They walked through the stableyard. The horseboxes were all closed and she could hear the grooms singing and talking in a lighted room at the far end.

  “How far is it to the place where I am staying?” Candida asked.

  “Only a few streets away,” Major Hooper replied. “Do you mind walking?”

  “No, I like it,” she told him.

  They moved side by side up the cobbled Mews.

  In the street outside the broughams, with their lamps lighted, were clop-clopping past. There seemed so many of them. They all looked prosperous, the horses sleek and well fed, the coachmen on the hammer-cloth flashily dressed.

  They walked in silence until Major Hooper stopped before a porticoed door. Candida was just about to climb the steps when the door opened. To her surprise Major Hooper took her tightly by the arm and drew her quickly away.

  “What is it?” she gasped, as she saw coming through the door in a shaft of light two tall top-hatted figures.

  “Don’t look round,” Major Hooper said quickly.

  “Why not?” Candida asked.

  “I don’t want them to see you,” he answered.

  They were still in the street and Major Hooper looked back. The two gentlemen leaving Mrs. Clinton’s had stepped into their carriage. There was a crest on the door, a footman on the box and the coachman whipped up the horses.

  “They have gone now,” Major Hooper said with relief. “Come on girl, we don’t want to dawdle about in case someone else arrives.”

  “The lady you are taking me to is not giving a party, is she?” Candida asked nervously.

  “No, no, just seeing – friends,” Major Hooper answered.

  Candida noticed a little pause between the last two words, but already they were at the door and the footman opened it at Major Hooper’s knock.

  “Madam said it would be best if you went into the dining room, sir,” she heard the footman say to Major Hooper.

  “Yes, a good idea,” he replied.

  He led the way to a room at the back of the house, small, square, tastefully set out with polished mahogany furniture and two large silver candelabra on the sideboard. The gas globes on either side of the fireplace were lit.

  “I will inform madam of your arrival, sir” the footman said.

  Candida looked round her apprehensively. There was nothing to frighten her, the room was in good taste and yet she felt afraid. It seemed to her that Major Hooper was also nervous. He kept looking at her and she could not understand the expression in his eyes.

  “Why don’t you take off that vastly unbecoming hat,” he suggested.

  “Of course, if you would like me to,” Candida smiled. “It’s ugly, is it not?”

  “No self-respecting horse would be seen dead in it,” Major Hooper replied and they were both laughing as Mrs. Clinton came into the room.

  She stood for a moment in the doorway, taking in the picture of the girl who stood beside the Major. She was small and fragile with an amazingly white skin and two huge eyes sparkling now with amusement.

  It was her hair that made Mrs. Clinton draw in her breath, the strange mixture of pale gold and in the gaslight touched with little flames of red.

  She stood there staring and then met Major Hooper’s eyes across the dining room table.

  There was a look of triumph in them, the look of an owner who has won first prize at a show. Mrs. Clinton gave him a faint smile and glided forward with both hands outstretched.

  “My dear child,” she said to Candida, “I am so very very glad to meet you.”

  Chapter Three

  “It’s not fair!”

  The words seemed to burst from the lips of the young man standing tense and pale in the elegant morning room of Manville House, which overlooked Berkeley Square.

  “Naturally you think so,” his Lordship replied suavely, “but in the years to come, Adrian, I promise you that you will thank me.”

  “I cannot understand why you should dictate to me in this matter,” Adrian recanted. “You may be my Guardian and have control of my money until I am twenty-five, but that does not entitle you to interfere in my life and prevent me from marrying whomever I wish to marry.”

  Lord Manville raised his eyebrows.

  “It does not?” he questioned. “I should have thought that was exactly what Guardians were for. But it is no use arguing with me, Adrian. I have made up my mind and the answer is no. You cannot get married when you are still only twenty and at Oxford.”

  “If Lucy was not a lady I could understand your opposition,” Adrian countered, “but even you cannot say that morally she is not a most suitable person for me.”

  “I was not suggesting that morals are concerned,” Lord Manville replied. “Moreover, I accept your statement that the lady on whom you have set your affections is of gentle blood and that her father, being a Parson, gives an air of sanctity to the whole affair. Nevertheless, Adrian, you still remain too young.”

  “I suppose,” Adrian said in a bitter voice, “you would make no objection if I set up some sordid little dancer in a villa in St. John’s Wood. That would come within your peculiar beliefs of what is correct for me at my age.”

  “While I am prepared, my dear boy, to ignore your somewhat offensive tone of voice,” Lord Manville replied, rising from the breakfast table and walking towards the fireplace, “let me tell you that such a liaison at your age would not only have my consent but my blessing.”

  “I was sure of it,” Adrian retorted furiously. “Your own reputation stinks. People talk about you and do you know what they call you?”

  “I assure you that I am not interested,” Lord Manville answered blandly.

  “They call you ‘the heartbreaker’,” Adrian stormed, “a shaming way to have one’s Guardian described! Oh, I’m not saying that a lot of my friends don’t envy you your wealth and your fine horses, but they snigger about your conquest – snigger! Do you hear me?”

  “It would be difficult not to,” Lord Manville replied, “considering that you are shouting. Do try, my dear boy, to have more self-control. It is exceedingly unbecoming for a gentleman of fashion to lose his temper simply because he cannot obtain exactly what he desires.”

  The quietness in Lord Manville’s tone seemed to check his young cousin’s fury.

  Adr
ian choked and, walking across the room to look out into Berkeley Square, said after a minute in a very different tone,

  “I apologise.”

  “I accept your apology and let me assure you, Adrian, that, although you don’t believe it at the moment, I have your best interests at heart. You have seen very little of life. When you leave Oxford, you will go to London and meet a great number of people, including many of the female sex. Then, if you are of the same mind about this young woman who has captured your heart, I shall be prepared to listen.”

  Adrian swung round, his eyes, alight.

  “In the meantime, may I be engaged to her?”

  “Certainly not,” Lord Manville responded promptly. “There is to be no attachment, no public recognition, nothing to proclaim that you mean anything more to each other than can be summed up in the all-embracing word of ‘friendship’. Even an ‘understanding’, my young Don Juan, would put you in chains. I want you to be free to see life for what it is before you shackle yourself to any woman, however attractive, however alluring she may appear at the moment.”

  “So you want me to become like you,” Adrian muttered in a dull voice, “nearly thirty-five and unmarried – ”

  “And with the reputation of being ‘a heartbreaker’!” Lord Manville finished for him. “Well, Adrian, each to our own choice. May I assure you, that whatever you and your contemporaries say about me, I am a contented man.”

  “You are out of date,” Adrian declared. “Can you not understand that all this raffish woman-chasing is something which belonged to the beginning of the century? Men are more serious today, they look at life from quite a different angle to what you do.”

  Lord Manville threw back his head and laughed as if he could not help it.

  “Oh my God, Adrian, you will be the death of me!” he exclaimed. “Students are all the same, they always think that they are going to reform the world, that they are different from their fathers’ generation, that they are made in a different mould from their elders and that their ideas are something entirely new.”

  “We do think differently, I assure you,” Adrian said hotly.

  “Spare me the details, I beg of you,” Lord Manville pleaded. “Go back to Oxford and get your degree. Then we can talk about what you are going to do with your life.”