Milly came back shortly afterward with the news that the girls were already up and dressed, that the master had summoned them for a ride before breakfast.
So he’d changed his mind about the urgency of his mission. Perhaps he’d listened to her after all. Encouraged by the news, Emm hurried downstairs and let herself out the back door. As she headed around the back of the house toward the stables, she heard voices raised in argument.
“I won’t! And you can’t make me. It’s stupid!” The unmistakable tones of George.
“You will, my girl, or you won’t ride at all.” Her husband’s voice. She hurried toward the stables.
“It’s a perfectly ridiculous way to ride! How can I control Sultan perched up on that silly contraption? A rider—a good rider needs only his knees to control their horse, but this way—”
“It is how ladies ride.”
“Well, not me! And you can’t tell me how to ride my own horse—Sultan belongs to me!”
“I can always send the horse and his stableboy back to where they came from.” A silky-voiced threat.
Emm picked up the pace and half skidded around the corner to see her husband standing in the middle of the stable yard, glaring in frustration at his niece. Rose and Lily, mounted on sidesaddles, watched in wary silence, as did the hound, Finn. Both girls were dressed in riding habits that Emm noticed were almost as out of date as hers. The curriculum at Miss Mallard’s Seminary did not include equestrienne skills, so Emm guessed it had been nearly as long for the girls as for her.
George, on the other hand, was dressed in masculine breeches and boots. She wore a scowl that matched her uncle’s so exactly that Emm was hard put not to laugh.
He stood holding the reins of his own horse and a black stallion that Emm hadn’t seen before—apparently the horse George had raised herself. The stallion bore a sidesaddle.
“Good morning, everyone,” Emm said blithely. “You’re quite right, George, a sidesaddle is a ridiculous affair—if it were not, then men would use them too—but I’m afraid your uncle is also right. If you wish to ride when we go to London, you will have to ride sidesaddle. To ride astride would brand you as a hoyden of the worst kind.”
George looked mutinous. Emm was sure the girl was about to declare that she didn’t care, so she added lightly, “And that would make things very unpleasant for Rose and Lily, as well as for you.”
Black brows drew together. George cast a doubtful glance at the other two girls. “Why should it make things difficult for them?”
“Because we are a family now, and what one family member does affects the reputation of the others.” She let that sinkin a moment, and added, “If one girl is held to be badly brought up, people will assume the other girls are just as wild and ungovernable.” She let that sink in, and not only to George.
Emm produced an apple core and offered it to Sultan. His lips were velvety soft as he nuzzled the fruit from her palm. “You accepted necessity when you trained this beautiful creature, George. It’s the same thing.”
George looked puzzled. “What necessity?
“You raised Sultan, didn’t you? Trained him from a foal?”
George nodded. Emm continued, “You could have left him to grow up wild and free, unbroken and untamed. But you wanted him to be able to go anywhere, to be respected and admired by all who saw him, so you broke him to bit and bridle and taught him his company manners.”
She saw from George’s expression that she understood.
“Your life has changed, George,” she said softly. “You can continue to fight against bridle and bit, or you can learn to accept a different kind of freedom and find joy in your new life. It’s up to you.”
There was a short silence, broken only by Sultan snuffling and wuffling down Emm’s front in search of another apple.
“I really do understand how you feel, though,” Emm continued in a sympathetic tone. “Before I was sent away to school I always rode astride and wore breeches all the time. It’s far more comfortable and practical, I agree.”
“You did?” George exclaimed.
“Didn’t your parents mind?” Lily asked curiously.
“My mother died when I was an infant, and my father—well, let’s just say he found it easiest to treat me as a boy. I’d probably still be wearing breeches and careering around the country astride had not the good ladies of church and county descended on my father in a pack when I was thirteen and informed him I was becoming a complete hoyden, and would, if left to continue my pathway, become quite unmarriageable. They convinced him to send me away to school to learn to be a lady.” She smiled at Rose and Lily. “Miss Mallard’s.”
She said to George, “Your uncle told me you are an excellent horsewoman.” The girl blinked and gave her uncle asurprised glance. Emm continued, “It won’t take you long to master the sidesaddle, teach your beautiful Sultan how to go on with it, and show him off to the world. But there are a few tricks to it. May I?” She gestured toward George’s horse.
George hesitated, then nodded.
Emm checked the fit of the saddle. Perfect.”The worst aspect is that you need a mounting block or another person to help you mount. Quite irritating if you want to be independent.” She turned to her husband. “Boost me up?”
He hesitated, his expression unreadable. “Just to demonstrate the seat,” he said reluctantly. “We don’t yet know how the horse will react to the sidesaddle.”
