Riding In the Sky Read online

She did not have to be told that this was Lulu.

  As they walked down the steps, she slipped her arm through Mark’s.

  Filipa saw on the other side of her that there was a man dressed as Faust complete with the Devil’s tail.

  She recognised him as the man she had bumped into in the corridor.

  He moved to her side.

  “Well, pretty one, we meet again,” he said. “May I tell you that you are even more alluring than I thought you were when you attempted to knock me down!”

  “I apologised for that,” Filipa said quickly.

  “It is something I shall ask you to do again,” he replied in a meaningful manner.

  Filipa looked away from him to find Mark.

  She saw him walking towards two horses that she was sure were theirs.

  Without replying to the man who spoke to her, she turned away, but not before she heard him say,

  “Don’t forget that I shall be waiting eagerly for that apology!”

  ‘I don’t like him,’ she told herself firmly.

  But she had the uncomfortable feeling that she would not be able to avoid him.

  Chapter three

  Filipa moved quickly to where Mark was now standing by their horses.

  She passed as she did so, a Pretty Horse-Breaker dressed as a very elaborate fairy.

  Another was wearing a dress that appeared to be composed of beads and coloured stones and very little else.

  She, however, was not interested in anything at the moment but the horse she was to ride.

  She saw at once that it was just as impressive as Mark had said it was.

  Completely white, it stood out amongst the other horses in a quite unusual manner. There was obviously Arab blood in it and she was certain that it was a good jumper.

  Her father had taught Filipa since she was a very small child that before she rode a horse she must gain its confidence.

  She therefore patted the horse affectionately, talking to it as she did so in a soft coaxing voice, to which horses always seemed to respond.

  “What is his name?” she asked the groom who was holding him.

  “Skylark, miss, and very appropriate I thinks!”

  “So do I,” Filipa smiled.

  She went on making a fuss of Skylark so that he could get used to her.

  She saw that Mark had gone to Hercules on the other side.

  Then she heard Lulu, who was already mounted on a large well-bred bay, ride up beside him and speak to him in a low voice.

  Filipa had very acute hearing and, although she did not mean to listen, she could not help hearing Lulu say,

  “I’m supposed to be ‘a temptation for the Devil’. Do I tempt you, dearest Mark?”

  “You know damn well you do!” Mark replied in a tone that Filipa had never heard before.

  She was also surprised that he should swear.

  Her mother always said that a gentleman never swore in front of a lady.

  Then she supposed that this did not apply to the Pretty Horse-Breakers.

  She was, however, aware that Mark was now standing looking up at Lulu.

  Bending down from the saddle, she kissed his forehead to Filipa’s astonishment,.

  “Good luck, big boy,” she said, “and don’t dare to beat me.”

  “It is something I shall enjoy doing if it’s possible!” Mark answered savagely.

  He turned away as he spoke and started to mount Hercules.

  Lulu was looking at him through her long heavily mascaraed eyelashes.

  Then her partner, dressed as Faust, who Filipa now realised must be Lord Daverton, said sharply,

  “Come on, Lulu! What are you hanging back for? You know we are expected to join the procession.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lulu replied and rode off after him.

  As she did so, the scarlet feathers of her extraordinary costume floated about in the wind.

  Filipa thought that they did indeed look like the flames of Hell.

  She had, however, little time to think about Lulu, for the rest of the party was forming into some sort of procession.

  Mark obviously thought that it would be a mistake for them to push themselves forward and hung back.

  In fact he did not tell Filipa to mount Skylark until practically everyone else was on the move.

  Then as he spoke, she had already sprung into the saddle and picked up the reins.

  “Good luck, miss,” the groom said.

  She thanked him and rode forward to be beside Mark.

  She realised then that they were the last of the fifteen pairs in fancy dress.

  As she looked ahead, she saw the Marquis coming through the trees in the Park.

  He rode towards the bridge, which had already been reached by Lulu and Lord Daverton.

  She guessed then that he intended to lead them through the wood to the Racecourse, where the crowd was waiting to see them.

  The sight of the Marquis made her remember that she had forgotten to ask Mark how he had fared in the race that he had just taken part in.

  But, as she turned her head to look at him, she realised that he was scowling.

  She then thought that it had something to do with Lulu.

  “How did you get on in the race?” she asked quickly, hoping to divert his thoughts.

  “I was second,” Mark replied. “And you can guess who was the winner.”

  “The Marquis?”

  “Of course! He had the best horse and I have to admit he rode superbly. If he was entering this race, we should not have a chance!”

  “We must pray very hard that we will at least be second,” Filipa said quickly.

  She had the feeling as she spoke that Mark was not listening.

  She could see his eyes looking ahead to where a flame-coloured figure was riding under the trees.

  ‘I suppose,’ she told herself humbly, ‘I am a very poor substitute for the Pretty Horse-Breaker he wanted to be with.’

  She began to pray not only that she would ride well, so that Mark could not blame her for spoiling his chances. She also prayed that they would win at least enough money to pay for the horse that he was riding.

  The procession moved slowly through the wood.

  Now Filipa was once again patting Skylark’s neck and talking to him.

  “You have to show these other horses what you can do,” she said, “and you have to be so outstanding that everyone applauds you as you gallop past the Winning Post!”

  She had the feeling, as Skylark pricked his ears, that he understood.

  They had reached the Racecourse and, now that she had the opportunity to look at all the other entrants for the race, her heart sank.

  There was no doubt that not only were the horses superb but so were their riders.

  Even though they were all wearing strange fancy dresses, which made them seem incongruous in the country, Filipa realised that the Pretty Horse-Breakers were extremely skilful riders.

  This was obvious from the way they held themselves and the fact that they seemed so at home in the saddle.

  They all of them, however, wore boots equipped with evil-looking spurs.

  Filipa had heard about the spurs, which were used mercilessly by some riders, and which her father had always denounced as being cruel and unnecessary.

  “If you cannot ride without a spur,” he had said, “you should walk and I will have no spurs used on my horses!”

  Filipa had known that he was exceptional in thinking in this way.

  She was well aware that many women in the hunting field spurred their horses until blood showed beneath the skirt of their riding habit.

  For the first time since putting on her fancy dress, she thought that she must look rather strange.

  She had nothing on her feet except the white slippers that had come in the trunk with the dress that Mark had brought down from London.

  She was curious to know if Lulu had intended to wear them without spurs.

  As they moved side by si
de in the ride across the woods, she asked,

  “Was Miss Lulu going to ride in these slippers?”

  Mark turned to see for the first time, her foot in the stirrup.

  “Good Heavens, no!” he exclaimed. “I thought you understood that you would bring your own riding boots and only put on the slippers when you went back to the house for luncheon.”

  “Well, you did not tell me and it is too late now,” Filipa answered. “But it makes no difference.”

  She did not need to add that when she was at home she rode just as she was and she wore the same shoes she walked about the house or the garden in.

  In fact she kept her riding habit, which was old and threadbare, only for the hunting field.

  For a moment Mark looked irritated and was frowning again.

  Then he said,

  “Oh, well, it will give them something to talk about if you win and Papa would not have expected you to use a spur.”

  “He would have been very angry if I did,” Filipa replied. “Do all the Pretty Horse-Breakers use spurs?”

  She knew the answer without waiting for Mark’s monosyllabic ‘yes’.

  Then, as if he did not want to talk about anything but the race, he said,

  “Keep close to me and for God’s sake don’t let anyone separate us or there may be some difficulty in deciding whether we have won or not.”

  “You mean we have to pass the Winning Post side by side?” Filipa enquired.

  “Of course!” Mark said sharply. “Do try to understand the rules.”

  “I am trying,” Filipa replied, “but we have not had a great deal of time to talk about it.”

  She spoke apologetically and, as if he realised that he was being unfair, Mark said quickly,

  “That is true and it is very decent of you, Filipa, to step in at the last moment and you know that I am very grateful.”

  Filipa smiled at him and he added,

  “The couple we have to watch out for are Daverton and Lulu. He has mounted her on one of the best horses in his stable.”

  “Is he a very important owner?” Filipa enquired.

  “He is rich enough to buy every horse in the race,” Mark said savagely, “and not even count the cost!”

  He spoke violently.

  Filipa knew that he was thinking not at that moment of Lord Daverton’s horses but of the diamond necklace he had given Lula.

  She realised that her brother was hurt and once again resenting the fact that he could not compete with a rich man.

  To cheer him up she said,

  “He needs money in consolation for being old and unpleasant, two things you could never be.”

  Mark laughed and it was a spontaneous sound.

  As he did so, without their being aware of it, the Marquis had ridden up beside them.

  “You are third in the procession with your partner, Seymour,” he said, “and you know that we circle the Racecourse twice before you take up your positions in the same order at the start.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.”

  The Marquis looked at Filipa and she thought that his eyes scrutinised her appearance in a way that was almost impertinent.

  Without meaning to she lifted her chin a little higher and looked at him defiantly before he said,

  “I don’t think we have met before.”

  “This is Fifi, my Lord,” Mark said hastily, “who very kindly consented to help me at the last moment when I was left without a partner.”

  “I heard that there had been an unexpected change,” the Marquis said, “and wondered what you would do about it.”

  Then before Mark could reply, he bent forward and held out his hand to Filipa.

  “I must thank you,” he smiled, “not only for coming to Seymour’s rescue but also to mine. I should have been annoyed if my pageant had fallen short of the number I planned.”

  Filipa put her hand into his and felt his fingers close over hers.

  It made her aware that he was even stronger and more overwhelming than he appeared.

  She also had the uncomfortable feeling that he was scrutinising her as if he was looking beneath the surface and was aware that she was not what she pretended to be.

  Then, as she quickly took her hand away from his, he said,

  “I hope the jumps will not be too high for you.”

  “Fifi is a very experienced rider,” Mark said as if he thought that the Marquis was disparaging her.

  “I am sure, Seymour, you are a good judge,” the Marquis replied.

  Then, raising his hat just a fraction from his dark head, he trotted quickly away to the head of the procession.

  Filipa gave a little sigh.

  “He frightens me,” she said, “and he made it quite clear that he thought we had no chance of winning the race.”

  “That is what I thought,” Mark muttered, “but we will show him he is mistaken.”

  “And then we can say ‘sucks to you!’ as we used to say when we were children.”

  Mark laughed and she thought it swept away his nervousness and the resentment that she had seen on his face when he was talking to the Marquis.

  ‘I am not surprised,’ Filipa thought, ‘that people are frightened of him. He definitely looked to me as if he was quite sure that I should fall off and make a fool of myself.’

  Because the Marquis had said that they were to be in third place, they rode forward to that position.

  It was just behind the couple dressed as Pierrots, ahead of whom were Lulu and Lord Daverton.

  Everybody went to their correct places.

  Filipa was aware that Lulu kept looking back at Mark.

  There was a provocative pout on her very red lips, and an expression in her large eyes that made Filipa feel embarrassed.

  She could hardly believe that Mark could be in love with someone who spoke with such an uneducated voice.

  At the same time she realised that in her own way Lulu was very lovely and that Mark found it impossible not to gaze in her direction.

  ‘I am sure that Mama would be very shocked by her,’ Filipa thought.

  At that moment Lulu bent down to adjust her skirt and Filipa saw that her dress was cut so low in the front that it was very revealing.

  She was aware that Mark had seen it as well.

  There was a look on his face that she did not want to translate into words.

  It was a relief when she heard the Marquis give the command to move.

  As he rode ahead of Lulu and Lord Daverton to lead the procession, a band, which Filipa had not noticed before, began to play.

  It was all rather exciting, she thought as the crowd that lined the railings of the Racecourse applauded them as they passed.

  It was obvious that the spectators were thrilled with the pageant that the Marquis had produced.

  They went around the course twice and then drew up in the same order at the Starting Post.

  Now the band had stopped playing and Filipa could hear the riders on either side of her talking to their partners.

  She realised that all the Pretty Horse-Breakers had uneducated voices like Lulu’s and in contrast it made the men who answered them sound very cultured.

  Filipa did not speak to Mark, but went on talking in a very low voice so that no one could hear to Skylark.

  She sensed that the horse’s reaction was exactly what her father had taught her to expect.

  As she looked at Hercules, she hoped that he was at least the equal of the horses ridden by the other gentlemen. She could not be sure because they all looked such fine animals.

  She only wished that Mark could have as splendid a stable as the Marquis and apparently Lord Daverton had as well.

  He would then be content to live in the country rather than among the extravagant temptations of London.

  The word ‘temptation’ made her think of Lulu and now she could see that she was flirting with Lord Daverton and it appeared to be in a very fast and exaggerated fashion.

  Then at last
they heard the voice of the Marquis calling them to attention.

  A few horses that had been restless and had refused to keep in line now moved forward.

  There was a pistol shot and they were off.

  Filipa realised immediately that it was going to be a very difficult if not dangerous race.

  In the first place there were really too many riders, and secondly the Pretty Horse-Breakers were all determined to win, making it even more competitive than she had expected.

  They all took the first fence in style.

  It was only at the second that one horse bumped another and there was a stream of oaths from both riders.

  Filipa was not listening.

  She was concentrating on how high Skylark jumped and finding Mark had been rightly informed that he was exceptional.

  What was much more difficult was to keep beside Mark and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was trying to position himself so as to be nearer to Lulu.

  She could understand that he wanted to challenge her because she had preferred Daverton to him.

  Equally she knew that if he must be in the first three home, he would have to ride better than the rest of the competitors, who, she could see, were all expert horsemen.

  ‘It’s impossible – we don’t have a chance,’ she thought unhappily.

  Then she admonished herself that it was the wrong attitude.

  For Mark’s sake she had to arouse in herself the confidence that both her father and mother had believed would bring them everything they desired.

  ‘Help me, Papa, help me,’ she prayed as they took the third fence and were still in very much the same position as when they started.

  The two Pierrots rode exceedingly well.

  Filipa was aware that the Pretty Horse-Breaker who was dressed like a Queen was already slightly ahead on their left.

  They had to circle the Racecourse three times and, when they had gone round the first time, there was, Filipa thought, very little between the competitors.

  She knew that Mark was riding Hercules on a tight rein as was she on Skylark.

  Both horses were longing to dash ahead, but there was still a long way to go.

  She knew that Mark was right in keeping Hercules strictly under control.

  The second time round the clowns lost ground when the gentleman’s horse stumbled and nearly fell.

  Now Mark was riding beside Lulu and Filipa knew that was what he wanted.