“What is it?” Marjorie asked after following Diana out of the room and towards the stairs. “Is something the matter?”
“No, but you’ll have to hurry if you’re leaving again,” she answered, quickening her pace.
“How did… why do you think I might be leaving?” Marjorie felt flush. Did anyone else know of her plan?
“I surmised when I saw the clothes laid out in your room, straightened and ready to wear again. You also dropped a heavy purse of coins in your room, it was nearly concealed by the shoes.” Diana pulled it from her pocket and held it out to Marjorie. “If this is what you managed to win after only one evening, I merely assumed you’d be trying it again, My Lady!”
“Shhhhh! Someone will hear you!” Marjorie whispered, grabbing Diana’s elbow and clinging to her as they hurried upstairs. “But why must I leave now? The race isn’t for two hours or better!”
“There will be too many people about, My Lady. Your father has some people coming, he’s informed Mrs. Stapleton to have more places set for dinner.” Diana saw the look of horror on Marjorie’s face and shook her head. “Oh no, miss, tis not the Duke. I know from his driver that he’s away at the moment, gone to London on business.”
“Oh, well. That is quite a relief. I was almost worried that… wait a minute.” Marjorie narrowed her eyes at Diana and gave her a wicked grin. “His driver? You happen to know from his driver? And when, perchance, did you have an opportunity to speak with his driver? Hmm?”
“No, My Lady! Tis not like that at all!” Diana said, laughing lightly as a blush rose in her cheeks. “His driver is Mr. Carter, my cousin on my mother’s side!”
Marjorie couldn’t help laughing loudly. “Yes, then I suppose there was nothing to gossip about there. But do remember, when the day comes that you have a suitor to call on you, I expect to be the first to know about it so that I might meet the man and give you my blessed approval!”
“Thank you, My Lady. It means so much to me that I’ve found employment in a household all these years where my mistress cares as much for my own happiness as hers.” Diana squeezed Marjorie’s hand where it still clung to hers, then looked alarmed. “But we must hurry and get you dressed! You must be out of the house before your father’s guests arrive.”
“That will not be a problem. Just help me with my hair again, and I can be dressed in a moment. I won’t need it to be quite so secure this time as I do not plan to race today.”
“No? Then what are you after?” Diana sounded concerned, suddenly unsure of her part in this.
“I’m seeking employment as a stable hand, if you must know,” she answered firmly.
“My Lady! Whatever for?” she cried. “You have a position, a very good one, too!”
“Yes, but that position is as precarious as yours, is it not? If Father has no fortune of his own, nothing to leave us girls in his stead, what will become of you?” Marjorie gave her lady’s maid a reassuring smile. “I’m not talking about an ordinary work hand, but rather someone with an expert knowledge of horses and breeding.”
“But what if you do find an employer? What then? How will you ever continue this masquerade?”
“Well, that will be a problem for another time, I suppose. I hope once I’ve proven myself with my knowledge of these fine creatures, I will simply be able to inform my employer of the truth… eventually, I think.” Marjorie nodded, as if that settled that matter. Diana didn’t look so certain, but she followed her mistress up the stairs anyway.
Shortly after, Diana led Marjorie once again down the servants’ staircase and out through the kitchen. She waved with a conspiratorial smile, then uttered a soft prayer for Marjorie’s success… and her safety. She waited until her mistress had disappeared from around the carriage house before closing the door and returning to her work.
Marjorie kept her head down as she circled the barn yard, looking for an opportune moment to slip into the stable and saddle Valiant. With enough time to think it over, she decided against bringing her favorite horse, though. What would become of him if someone remembered him from the race the other day? Or what if someone did wish to employ her?
Instead, she unhooked one of the mules that was grazing nearby on a picket and placed a saddle blanket on his back. She took hold of the lead line and used it as a rein, then climbed onto his back with a little help from the split rail fence. It wasn’t the most graceful way to climb astride such a large animal, but it would have to serve.
When Marjorie arrived at the races, she was shocked to see the flurry of activity. Everywhere she looked, highborn noblemen milled about, many with wonderfully dressed ladies on their arms. Women chatted happily about unimportant things while men discussed the qualities of every horse within the entire empire. Banners and ribbons hung from every fence post, and the slop of mud that had ringed the course so recently was now covered with fresh hay and sawdust.
It’s a nightmare, Marjorie thought as a wave of panic swept over her. What if I’m discovered?
In truth, she recognized dozens of faces, all of whom thankfully ignored her in her rough clothes. For a moment, it was shocking to find that without ribbons adorning her curls and silk gloves upon her dainty fingers, these people she counted as friends and equals had nothing to do with her. She might have been a stray dog for all the notice they paid her.
Or a stable hand, she realized, a lowly no one whom the ton cannot be bothered to look at or care about.
Rather quickly, Marjorie came to see the benefit of such haughty attitudes towards those who served. More than once, she was forced to duck behind a larger person or lower her head to conceal her face beneath the brim of her cap, all because she recognized someone who would have been scandalized at the sight of her. Seeing her unaccompanied at such a place as this would be scandal enough, but for her to be dressed so—in public, no less—would have been the end of her.
“Mind yer step, lad,” a gruff but not unkind man said, catching her elbow and making her jump slightly.
“Oh, my fault, sir. I didna know there’d be so many people here today. Why is that?” she asked, hoping her attempt at a young man’s voice didn’t sound too farcical.
“Tis the Hawthornes, a’course!” he replied, as though that should have explained it clearly. Marjorie nodded, kicking herself for letting the date slip by her.
She’d never been permitted to attend the Hawthorne Stakes herself, of course, but she knew her parents used to discuss them eagerly each season. They’d spend weeks in preparation, deciding which horses to race, which ones to show, even which ones to simply ride to the grand event, all in an effort to secure their place as masterful stable owners in the minds of the public.
And now, she found herself dressed as a man at perhaps the most highly attended event of the horse racing season. Even families whose interest in horses didn’t extend beyond a gentle mare to pull their carriage would be here, simply because it was a social occasion.
