Marjorie gave Valiant a quick brushing and started to fill a pail for fresh water when a stable boy raced to take it from her. She thought to argue, but then knew the wrath would fall upon the young boy for letting her fetch it.
As if I’m a hothouse flower who would crumble under the weight of a pail!she thought angrily as she marched back to the manor.How sick I am of tiptoeing through life!
Marjorie instantly felt a flood of guilt. She knew exactly why she wasn’t permitted to ride as she pleased, to go where she pleased, to dress as she pleased.
What care had she for fancy gowns and gossip from the ton? Marjorie might inherit her father’s wealth and title—only long enough to pass it to her husband, of course—but her true inheritance was her mother’s passion for horses.
From even before Marjorie could walk, her mother would take her on daily rides through the estate. It was not at all uncommon for the Lady Mortham to walk into the nursery still tugging her riding gloves on and demand that the tutor release Marjorie from her studies.
“That’s enough Latin for today. There’s far more to learn while riding,” her mother had always said.
Outside, riding high in their saddles as they cantered across one glen or another, her mother had taught her far more than any tutor or governess. Marjorie had learned fluent French and Italian as they rode each day, learned geography by discussing where the best horse lineages came from, learned her math by plotting the siring and breeding and sale of horses in their stables. Barely old enough to climb into the saddle herself, Marjorie could calculate in her head how much their wealth would increase with the foals that were born each season, and how much a brood mare of the finest line should fetch at sale.
Marjorie even knew medicine from spending late nights in the stables with her mother, tending to a wound caused by a protruding fence post or a thrown shoe. She’d even borne witness to a few of the more “forbidden” aspects of breeding and birthing, a fact her mother insisted she keep from both her father and her sister.
“There’s no need to tell all that one knows,” her mother had said about the matter once, but it became a lesson that was ingrained in Marjorie’s mind. There was surely no need to let anyone find out about her solitary rides or the speed with which she and Valiant flew across the land. There were days for wearing her best riding habit and trotting around the park, and days for dressing hardly better than a farm girl and letting her horse carry her away.
Away from her father’s sour countenance. Away from unceasing discussions of dowries and marriage prospects. Even away from her little sister’s hopeful face whenever Marjorie entered the room.
As Marjorie continued her reluctant climb to the house, her feet slowed. She might have to obey her father, but he had not said she had to be quick about it. Intent on walking rather slowly, she was surprised when Mr. Colin stepped out from behind the corner.
“Psst… My Lady,” he began, looking around and whispering. “I’ve saddled Valiant for you! Hurry!”
“What? Mr. Colin! I’m surprised at you!” she replied, her eyes brightening and a smile on her face at last.
“Don’t be too long. If your father comes ‘round, I’ll tell him that one of the lads took Valiant for a ride since the horse thought he was getting to go out and about. You’ll just have to make your own excuses! Now be quick!”
Marjorie raced back to the barn and took the reins eagerly from one of the hands. She didn’t bother leading Valiant out into the fresh air, but rather leapt up in the saddle where he stood, ignoring the stable hand’s offer of a boost.
Outside, Marjorie looked around before nudging Valiant’s flank, sending him off at a good pace. With enough distance between them and the estate, she let him break into a full run, relishing the feeling of the air against her face.
“Hyah, boy!” she called, nudging Valiant a little harder and laughing when he took the command. Soon, they were racing over the fields, splashing through the stream that ran alongside the pathway, leaping over fallen logs.
Too soon, Marjorie realized they needed to turn back. They’d only been gone for most of an hour, but the return ride would take just as long and had the disadvantage of being largely uphill. As she stopped to let Valiant drink from a brook, the sound of approaching hoof beats made her look up.
She had only seconds to throw her hands over her face and leap back, pulling Valiant away from his drink, before another horse and rider were upon them. The other horse bore down on them so fast that it startled, neighing loudly while its rider called out.
“You there!” the young man called out, sliding from his saddle and standing before Marjorie. “Are you hurt? Did we frighten you?”
“I… no, I’m all right. But yes, you did give us a fright. It’s a wonder my horse didn’t bolt,” she answered, trying not to sound too cross with the man.
“My sincerest apologies. I did not realize anyone would be out at this time of the morning.” The young man looked around, taking note of whether anyone else was nearby. He frowned when he saw no one. “Are you alone, Miss?”
“Um… well, no,” Marjorie lied. “But my horse needed to rest so I told the others I would be but a moment. We’ll be leaving to find them now.”
“I insist on accompanying you,” he answered, a sincere look of concern on his face. “This part of the wood has been known to be fraught with obstacles that could cause your horse to stumble. I’ll ride with you, Miss.”
Marjorie was torn. A part of her was chastising herself vehemently for riding so far from Windle Manor and in an unfamiliar place, something that the necessity of avoiding her father had caused. But of course, there were no ‘others,’ as this kindly man would discover. He would know her to have lied, and possibly demand to know why.
“I cannot be the reason you are put to such trouble, sir,” she answered, hoping that her voice sounded confident. “I’m quite a capable rider, I assure you I’ll be fine.”
“Again, I must insist,” he replied, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t do to have you hurt out here so far from anyone’s reach. Let us go!”
Marjorie had no choice but to follow, lest she give herself away. She climbed up in the saddle and took the trail behind the young man until they came to a wider, open path.
“What caused you to take this route today?” he asked casually. “It’s not a place that sees many riders.”
“Oh, just exploring the countryside, sir,” Marjorie said. “My… brother and I were feeling up for a bit of a challenge.” She winced at her own lie, but for her safety she overlooked her dishonesty.
