The Unbreakable Spell Read online

  She paused and her eyes rested on Rocana’s face as she hissed,

  “After all, you must expect to make some contribution towards the money your uncle has had to expend on paying your father’s debts, and also make some reparation for the fact that your mother’s kith and kin were killing and crippling our soldiers and sailors for over fifteen years.”

  Rocana clenched her hands together in the effort to control the protest that rose to her lips.

  None of her mother’s family had served in the Napoleonic Army.

  Her grandfather had always, her mother told her, deprecated the war and had despised the jumped-up aristocracy that the victorious Corsican created in place of the ancien régime to which all the old aristocratic families in France had belonged.

  But she knew it was hopeless to say this to the Duchess who had hated her mother and her father as she hated her.

  She therefore kept silent and, as if the Duchess was somewhat piqued at eliciting no response she said,

  “Mind these things are repaired and done properly or I shall certainly punish you severely for your negligence!”

  With that she flounced out of the room and down the stairs to join Caroline who was waiting in the hall.

  As Rocana followed her aunt she knew by the expression on Caroline’s face that she was apprehensive as to what her mother had said to her.

  She was suffering so acutely at leaving Patrick that it was hard to pretend to be looking forward to the journey to London.

  As she kissed Rocana goodbye, she whispered so that nobody else could hear,

  “Write – as soon as you see him. I must know what he – thinks.”

  Rocana thought it was dangerous to say anything so she merely nodded her head, and Caroline with a woebegone expression waved her hand as the carriage drove away down the drive.

  *

  The Duke and the Marquis had already left to greet the first arrivals from the Steeplechase.

  However much she might be punished for negligence, Rocana had no intention of missing the race.

  She therefore hurried into her habit and, running down the back stairs, reached the stables after most of the grooms had left for the starting point, which was at the North end of the Park where the trees ended and the flat ground began.

  Rocana was aware that there would be a large crowd of spectators and she therefore was careful to avoid being seen as she moved through the orchard, riding to the South of the area, marked out for the race.

  There was a place where she could watch the start and almost the whole of the rest of the course as well.

  The last jump was just below her, and the winning post a quarter-of-a-mile ahead.

  She was sheltered from being seen by trees and, as she drew her horse to a standstill, she wished that Caroline could be with her so that they could laugh together at some of the entries and admire the others.

  There were a number of horses milling about round the start and Rocana could see the Duke was trying to create some order.

  She was certain he was being irritated by the spectators who got in the way and their dogs that barked at the horses causing them to rear and buck.

  Then, as she watched, she saw the Marquis join the Duke and thought that nobody could fail to recognise him, and that Patrick had been right when he said he would undoubtedly be the winner.

  He was riding a large black stallion and Rocana knew it would be difficult for any of the other contestants to rival such a magnificent animal.

  At the same time Patrick was on a well-bred horse he had broken in himself and he had the advantage of being familiar with the course, which was laid out in the shape of a large horseshoe.

  He had been over the jumps a dozen times in the last week or so, as had some of the other contestants who lived in the vicinity of The Castle.

  There were one or two quite comic entrants, mostly yeoman farmers who knew they had no chance of winning, even if they could finish the course, but who just wanted to join in the fun.

  Because Rocana had good eyesight she could see them all very clearly from where she had stationed herself on top of a small hill and she was surprised that nobody else had chosen this particular vantage point.

  Instead there were spectators at every jump and she knew that the rest of the crowd would watch the start, then immediately run as quickly as they could to the finishing point.

  The horses had been put into some semblance of a line and she saw the Duke waiting for one awkward animal which would not turn in the right direction.

  Then he dropped the flag he was carrying.

  There were off!

  Rocana held her breath as she saw a big field thunder down to the first fence.

  She had jumped it herself and knew that unless one took it at exactly the right angle it was tricky.

  She was therefore not surprised to see two horses fall. One of them got up and galloped after the others, determined not to be out of the race.

  A riderless horse was always a danger and was responsible for another fall at the next fence, a second riderless horse joining the others.

  The next three were fairly easy and there were no casualties and, with a sigh of relief, Rocana saw that one of the riderless horses had run out and been caught by a groom.

  Then came some really hard riding over heavy ground that was always damp whatever the time of year, but she could see the Marquis was taking it in his stride.

  Although he was riding his stallion with a tight rein, he was slightly ahead of the rest of the field.

  After four more fences some of the farmers dropped out finding the going too rough, two horses refused to jump and one threw his rider over his head.

  Now they had almost completed the first round of the course and swinging to the left to avoid the winning post were back at the first fence to start all over again.

  The riders had now thinned out considerably and the Marquis was a length ahead, his horse jumping each fence with a foot to spare and treating the easier ones with a disdain that Rocana could sense even from such a long distance away.

  She was aware too that the Marquis rode better than anybody she had ever seen with the exception of her father.

  Or perhaps to be honest she should say that he was as good as her father had been and seemed to be part of his horse and the mere fact of riding such a fine animal seemed to give him a sense of omnipotence.

  She had the feeling, although she could not hear him, that, when he took a difficult fence, he encouraged his horse by speaking to it, as her father had always taught her to do.

  Once she saw him bend forward, pat his horse on the neck after he had negotiated a difficult fence, avoided a riderless horse and ignored a spectator who was in the way.

  Then, two fences from the end, the Marquis was challenged.

  To her delight Rocana saw that it was Patrick!

  He had been riding a little way back and she thought on a tight rein.

  Now he gave his horse his head and, as he took the last fence but one at exactly the same time as the Marquis, he bent forward and was obviously ready to ride all out for the rest of the race.

  Rocana could not be sure, but she felt the Marquis was surprised.

  Quite suddenly the race that had seemed a walk over for him became a contest.

  Now the two men were really struggling – although the Marquis was not aware they were also rivals in another field – and riding all out, each one determined to be the winner.

  They took the last fence with not an inch to choose between them and then there was a clear run to the winning post.

  Most of the spectators had reached it by this time and Rocana could hear their cheers of encouragement echo over the whole valley.

  The two horses were galloping at a phenomenal speed, the turf from their hoofs flying out behind them and she knew that each man was straining every nerve to beat the other.

  Then, with a roar of voices that echoed and re-echoed, they were neck and neck as they passed the Duke w
ho was waiting for them.

  From where Rocana was watching it was impossible to be sure which of them was the winner.

  She could only hope that it was Patrick, because it would be a good omen for him and Caroline.

  Then she knew that now the race was over she must not linger, but must return to The Castle and think of some way by which she could communicate with Patrick before he went home.

  It was a relief to think as she rode back that she need not be afraid of being seen by the Duchess who had already told her that she was not to attend the Steeplechase and was on no account to be seen by anybody who had been invited to The Castle for luncheon.

  It was so usual for her to be isolated in obscurity that Rocana had hardly listened at the time.

  It was only this morning when she awoke to finish Caroline’s packing that she had realised with a lilt in her heart that she would be able to see the race without there being a row about it afterwards.

  She rode into the stables knowing that she would be back before the grooms and put her own horse into his stall, took off his bridle and unsaddled him.

  She was just about to leave when she heard a commotion at the other end of the stable.

  There were twenty stalls in this particular building and she was aware that there was a horse plunging about and several grooms shouting at each other.

  Because she was curious, she walked down the alleyway between the stalls noting which of the Duke’s horses were still in them.

  She found, as she expected, that the commotion was coming from one of the stalls where visiting guests usually stabled their horses.

  When she reached it she saw an extremely fine looking animal almost, she thought, the counterpart of the one the Marquis had been riding in the race.

  He was rearing up on his hind legs and making it impossible for the grooms to put his bridle over his head. In fact it was quite obvious that the three grooms watching him were nervous, and the one who was holding the bridle in his hand appeared to be white-faced and shaking.

  “What is the matter?” Rocana asked in her soft voice.

  The three men looked at her and she saw they were all strangers.

  “It’s this ’ere stallion ’is Lordship bought last week, miss,” the oldest of the grooms replied.

  “He seems rather wild,” Rocana observed with a smile.

  “There’s no ’oldin’ ’im, miss, and that’s the truth!” the groom added. “’is Lordship made us bring ’im ’ere in case he decided to ride ’im instead of Conqueror and I don’t know ’ow we’re goin’ to get ’im back ’ome again.”

  “Is his Lordship thinking of riding him?” Rocana asked.

  “No, miss, this is Vulcan and the one he’s bin ridin’ ’as to be ridden by the outriders. Jed’s supposed to ride this one.”

  “I ain’t ridin’ ’im!” Jed called out quickly. “’E’d kill me and I don’t want to die yet!”

  “Surely his Lordship does not want you to saddle him before luncheon?” Rocana asked.

  “’Is Lordship’s orders, miss,” the groom who had been speaking to her before said, “is that he’ll leave as soon as possible after the race and we daren’t keep ’im waitin’!”

  The other grooms nodded agreement and one piped up,

  “We all be ’fraid of the Master’s anger.”

  “I ain’t ridin’ ’im, I tells yer, I ain’t ridin’ ’im!” Jed cried frantically.

  “Nobody ain’t gonna ride ’im if we don’t get this bridle on ’im,” the other groom moaned.

  “Let me try,” Rocana suggested.

  There was a look of surprise on their faces and for a moment they did not seem to grasp what she meant.

  Then, as she opened the door of the stall, the oldest groom said quickly,

  “Nay, miss, ye can’t go in with Vulcan! When ’e’s like this ’e’ll kill you fer sure!”

  “I don’t think so,” Rocana answered quietly. “Keep still and don’t talk.”

  She walked into the stall, speaking very softly as she did so, in the voice she had heard her father use when he was breaking in one of his wild horses.

  He bought them cheap and invariably turned them into perfectly-trained animals that he either rode himself or sold at a handsome profit.

  “Why are you upset?” she was saying softly. “I expect it’s because they did not allow you to take part in the race, which was obviously very unfair. You are so beautiful, so magnificent, I am sure you would have won it easily. There will be other races, you may be sure of that. But you want them to admire you and feel happy when they are riding on your back.”

  She went on talking, standing by the side of the stall, making no effort to approach Vulcan who was watching her warily, his ears twitching as he appeared to listen to what she was saying.

  Still talking, still praising and admiring him in her father’s voice which she had always thought to herself had a mesmeric magic about it and was somehow irresistible, she moved slowly towards him.

  Some of the tension seemed to go out of Vulcan and he made no effort to rear.

  Rocana moved nearer and nearer to him until she was touching him, patting first his neck, then caressing his nose and his ears until, as if he enjoyed it, when she stopped he nuzzled against her.

  It was only then, not raising her voice but using the same tone with which she had spoken to Vulcan she said,

  “Give me the bridle!”

  Nervously the groom who was holding it came into the stall and held it out to her at arm’s length.

  She took it in her right hand, still soothing Vulcan gently with her left. Then, as she slipped the bridle over his head, she said to him,

  “You don’t want to stay in here on such a lovely day. I will take you outside in the sunshine. You will find it is much more enjoyable than trying to dance about in a place that is much too small for a big, powerful horse like you!”

  The bridle was over Vulcan’s head and now she turned him round and led him from the stall and as she did so she saw where there had been three men watching her there were now four.

  For a moment she looked into the Marquis’s eyes and knew the expression on his face was of astonishment.

  Then deliberately ignoring him, she led Vulcan out of the stall past her small audience and into the stableyard.

  She was still talking to him, telling him how much he would enjoy himself outside and that everybody would admire him.

  Then she drew him to a standstill and said in the same voice she had used before,

  “Put his saddle on and very gently.”

  She felt Vulcan stiffen as somebody came up beside him and, as Rocana held the bridle tightly to prevent him from rearing, she realised incredulously that it was the Marquis.

  He put the saddle on the horse’s back gently in exactly the way she wished it to be done.

  Then, as a groom hastily fastened the girths on either side, the Marquis stood beside her to ask,

  “Who are you? And how can you know how to handle a horse like this in such an amazing manner?”

  Rocana looked up at him and smiled.

  When she had gone into Vulcan’s stall, she had automatically pulled off her riding hat from her head because she thought it might get in the way.

  Now with the sunshine on her hair she looked very small and insubstantial beside the huge stallion.

  The Marquis too was so tall that she had to tip back her head to look up at him and, as he looked down at her, she saw the surprise in his eyes.

  “Vulcan was only showing off and horses always know when people are afraid of them,” she replied. “It makes them behave defiantly.”

  “What is your name?” the Marquis asked.

  “Rocana.”

  She had not meant to say any more, but she realised he was waiting and after a moment she added a little reluctantly.

  “ – Brunt!”

  “A member of the Duke’s family! I did not meet you last night or perhaps you have only just arrived.”


  “No, I live here.”

  As soon as she spoke, she realised she should not be talking to the Marquis and, if the Duchess learned of it, she would be furious.

  She said quickly,

  “Vulcan will be all right now, but I think perhaps you should ride him yourself and teach him how to behave.”

  “Are you giving me instructions?” the Marquis asked somewhat mockingly.

  “No, no! I was merely making a suggestion, and let me congratulate you on a very exciting finish to the Steeplechase.”

  Then, as if she could not help asking the question, she added,

  “Who did win?”

  “We agreed it was a dead heat,” the Marquis replied and saw by the expression on Rocana’s face that she was pleased.

  She put the reins she was holding into the Marquis’s hand and said,

  “It was very exciting. And I think your horses are magnificent!”

  She turned away before he could answer and ran across the yard remembering, as she did so, that she had left her hat in the stable.

  Only when she reached her bedroom did she think how exciting it had been to manage Vulcan in the way she had – and also to meet the Marquis.

  But she could understand how much he frightened Caroline and apparently those who served him.

  ‘He really is overwhelming!’ she told herself.

  It was almost like confronting a typhoon or a tidal wave or, she thought with a little smile, taking a fence that was so high it seemed impossible to leap over it.

  ‘I should not have met him now,’ she thought, ‘and I may never meet him again, but I shall find it difficult to forget him.’

  Leaning out of the window, she could see a number of the riders entering The Castle for luncheon that had been prepared for them in the big Baronial Hall.

  She was aware that the cooks had been working all the week for the feast, for it was nothing less that everybody expected at The Castle.

  There would be, Rocana knew, great haunches of venison from the deer in the park, boars’ heads and suckling pigs, besides innumerable legs of lamb, chickens, fat pigeons and trout from the lake.