Clarissa looked around at the groups of men conversing and wondered if any of them would allow their wives to be independent thinkers and doers. Then there were the single men, who among them would allow her the independence to continue training and breeding these fine Thoroughbreds? Besides, she would expire from boredom if she was chained to domestic duties. It was not an option she would dwell on today.
Standing outside Figgy’s stall, sipping a cup of steaming hot tea, she was dressed in a fine jacket and skirt with a matching hat perched atop her mass of auburn curls, holding a conversation with Figgy.
“So, you see, Figgy, this is the most important day of our lives. My future and that of these stables rest on today’s outcome.” Clarissa rested her forehead on Figgy’s head as she absentmindedly stroked her neck. “If only father were here… if he were,” there was a long pause as she gave out a deep sigh before continuing, “then, it would be completely different. I can only hope for high sale prices today,” Clarissa offered a few carrots to Figgy who gently blew on Clarissa’s offered hand as her soft nose sniffed out the treats.
“I dare say, by the looks of the gathering crowd, you will be a smashing success,” said the president of the local Jockey Club. He had worked with Clarissa to make this event a success for Lochwood Stables and the other horse owners participating in the auction. The reputation of this area hinged on a good showing. Lochwood, with its fine training facilities, was the perfect showplace to represent the Hudson River Valley’s outstanding horses. She hoped that no one would mention the fact that her entire stable of horses had colic only a few short days ago and several of their best horses had been lost. It would be disastrous if that word got out.
Startled out of her deep thoughts, Clarissa looked up. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, Mr. Bates. How nice it would be if that’s all that was required. I’m afraid much more hangs in the balance today. I could use some moral support if you’re not too busy. That is to say, would you accompany me as I make my final rounds before the auction begins?”
“I can spare a few moments, little lady.” As president of the local club, the crowd would look at the two of them walking together and assume he had a pretty little thing on his arm for decoration. How she wished it was her father instead of Mr. Bates.
They briskly walked, as fast as Clarissa’s limp would allow, to the platform where they found the auctioneer and his team of helpers reviewing the horses offered today. She searched the crowd looking for any kind of support she could get. Thank goodness Laura and some other friends were nearby.
“Laura, how kind of you to be here today,” greeted Clarissa brightly then gave a slight nod in the direction of the others.
“I wouldn’t be any other place today, my friend. Of course, I’m here for you.”
They hugged and Clarissa gleaned every bit of strength she could from the embrace. She’d need it to survive all the tension of the day. “I must see to the rest of the auction details, but this looks like a good place for you to settle in. Would you be a dear and reserve a place for me?
Laura nodded in agreement and the others gave a smile and a nod in Clarissa’s direction. “Let’s hope for a most successful auction today,” Laura said, and the others agreed.
Clarissa continued to the racetrack to observe a light workout of the two-year-old’s by the grooms and continued on to the buggy track. Had she thought about it at the beginning, an auction might have seemed like a daunting task. Instead, she hadn’t had the time or energy to think, she just did what had to be done. Grief and fear were difficult taskmasters.
As she made her way back to the auction platform, a few members of the growing crowd, neighbors and family friends, doffed their hats and offered best wishes for a successful day. There were also knots of men who turned their backs on her as she passed. She heard plenty of demeaning commentaries. “Who does she think she is?” or “This is a man’s world. No place for skirts here.” And then, “She should be looking for a husband, not selling horses.” Clarissa was raised better so she elevated her chin, oh so slightly, and squared shoulders and continued on. She extended every courtesy to all who attended, it was that or admit defeat now, and she wasn’t willing to do that. She had come too far and would see it through to the end.
The call to start the auction had just sounded and all eyes were on the auctioneer’s platform. The first horses up for auction were offered by Green Meadow Farms—a fine stallion and a couple of broodmares. The auctioneer’s voice resounded throughout the crowd, “Start the bidding at five hundred. Now, who’ll give me five, five now five? I have five, now five-fifty, five-fifty.” The sing-song rapid-fire words rolled off his tongue. The first three horses were now in the history books.
High Meadow Farms were up next offering two broodmares. Their bloodlines were not as established as Green Meadows and the bidding started at two hundred dollars. The crowd seemed to be more engaging at this price offering and hands immediately shot up as the bidding quickly progressed.
When the Lochwood horses were announced, there was a sudden hush over the crowd. The auctioneer started the bidding at five hundred for the first stallion. No hands were raised to bid. The auctioneer looked down at Clarissa and she gave a slight nod of her head. He dropped the bid to four hundred fifty dollars, his sing-song voice echoing across the crowd. No hands were raised to bid.
Clarissa’s heart beat faster than at any time in her entire life. She dared not turn around and look at the bidders. Standing fast, she gave another slightly perceptible nod to the auctioneer. The bid was dropped to three hundred fifty. Was this a boycott? Would anyone bid on her horses?
The Jockey Club president raised his hand to bid and after quickly acknowledging him, the auctioneer promptly upped the number to four hundred. Heads turned in his direction and a low murmur began like a beehive coming to life.
When it appeared as though no one else was going to bid, another man raised his hand. She didn’t recognize him but others in his group started to bid as well and it continued until the price for her first horse reached eight hundred dollars. Clarissa let out a big sigh of relief and the tension was broken as they continued through the broodmares. Others now joined in and the prices slowly climbed. Clarissa agonized over each amount as she tried to keep a running tally in her head. She needed higher bids. Panic set in as the auction drew to a close. She had lost track of the bid tally and almost fainted because she had been holding her breath again.
Laura grabbed Clarissa’s arm to steady her. “Are you alright,” Laura asked?
“No, not really, I can’t believe the auction is over.” Panic set in and her eyes were wild with fear as she watched the crowd start to disperse. “I think I need more money. I’m so confused and light-headed, I feel as if I’m going to cast up my accounts.”
Laura eased Clarissa through the crowd to the privacy of the stables. “Sit down and put your head between your legs. I know, it doesn’t look very ladylike but believe me, it will help.”
Clarissa did as she was told and felt somewhat better when she straightened up. The sick feeling had not completely left her. Despair was a cruel friend.
By nightfall, the crowds had dispersed, and the sales tallied far below the amount needed to pay off Alex Kilpatrick and the notes he held against Lochwood. Even with the stud fees that were being negotiated for Casanova and Daddy’s First, their top stallions standing at stud, the funds raised today fell far short of the mark.
Although the Thoroughbred stables of Lochwood had garnered high marks for their training facilities and fine bloodlines, the fact still remained that Clarissa was, and always would be a woman in a man’s world. There were those who thought she had no place in this world of horses. She hadn’t thought anything could dissuade her until now, but maybe they were right. She’d failed. Failed her grandmother, failed all of the people working at Lochwood, failed her parents, and ultimately failed herself. What could she do now but give in to everyone else’s demands?
A husband. A weary life of counting linens awaited her at home.
Exhausted from the day’s events, Clarissa bid her friends goodbye and slowly made her way to the Manor house where she drew a hot bath. Refreshed, but with a heavy heart, she dressed to have supper with Gran.
Abigail was smiling warmly as Clarissa entered the small eating area. “There you are, my dear. Would you care for a glass of sherry before we eat?”
“No thank you, Gran. I’m afraid it would put me right to sleep,” which is exactly where she wished to be. Maybe tomorrow would look better, because tonight seemed like the end of the world.
“I hope you have good news regarding our financial situation. Perhaps that is a subject better left for tomorrow when we are not so tired, although I fear I won’t sleep a wink until I hear the totals.”
“It breaks my heart to say that we are far short of the needed funds to pay off the notes. I saw Alex Kilpatrick in the crowd today. I’m surprised he’s not banging on our door with his suitcase in hand ready to turn us out.” She was too tired even for tears at this point. She felt numb and longed to be in the comfort of her bed with the covers pulled up over her head. How would she ever be able to show her face in public?
“You worked so hard, dear. How could you have known that the horses would turn ill and the bids would be low today? You can certainly hold your head up high and be proud of the fine job you did.”
She couldn’t even look at Gran. “I’ve failed miserably, I’m afraid. The future of Lochwood was in my grasp and I let it slip by.” She raised her hands from her lap and mindlessly looked at them as she turned them over and continued. “It’s a good thing father is not here to see what a mess I’ve made of things.” Her voice had grown softer until Gran could no longer hear what Clarissa was saying.
A loud noise from the kitchen snapped Clarissa out of her muse. “I’m convinced the horses turning ill were no coincidence. If I were a betting person, I’d bet Kilpatrick had a hand in it. Unfortunately, I can’t prove it,” said Clarissa with the harsh bile of disgust in her mouth. She all but spit the words out. She rose from the table and paced, striking her right fist in her left hand. The diatribe continued. “What made me think I could raise the needed funds?”
Gran broke in, “Be that as it may, at least we have another option to living with your Uncle Robert.”
“It’s hard for me to even think about that right now, Gran. I keep going over things in my mind to see what I missed. My future looks bleak indeed.” She returned to the table and plopped down in her chair. “Sadly, I’ll concede to your plan and you’ll get your heart’s desire to see me presented to New York’s finest families. My life will have no meaning without the horses and Lockwood, but I’ll honor our agreement.” With one last gasp of defeat, Clarissa finally looked at Gran. “Could we at least wait until Monday before implementing that option?”
“Listen to me, young lady. There is no way you could have been more prepared for today’s auction. I’m not gloating over this unexpected shortfall, however, I am determined to make the best of the situation and proceed as we planned. At least we have an alternative. I’ll send a message to our dressmaker in Mount Pleasant to attend us on Tuesday afternoon. Will that be satisfactory with you?”
Clarissa let out a long sigh. “I would like Laura to be here with some dress designs. She is always up on the latest fashions and has such an eye for fabric and color.” Because Lord knows, Clarissa didn’t know anything about crinolines, lace, and silk unless those were the names of the spring foals.
“Quite right, my dear. I’m sure she won’t miss this opportunity to assist you. I agree, she always looks like a fashion statement, even in her riding habit.”
Clarissa looked no better than a stable hand in the outfit she wore around the estate, but that hadn’t mattered before. Starting Tuesday, it would have to change.
We’ll need to secure a townhouse in the city for us to be in residence and hold your debut ball. Then there’s the guest list and….”
Clarissa interrupted, “You’re making me dizzy already, Gran. Could this wait until tomorrow?”
Cook entered with two bowls of beef consomme and a basket of fresh-baked bread. As she set the dishes in front of each lady and lifted off the covers, their eyes closed as they inhaled the delicious aroma.
“I have always loved this land of ours, Clarissa. Since coming to America as a young bride, some of my most treasured memories are centered on this house and the people I hold dear.”
“Ah Gran, me too. It’s the only home I’ve ever known. I don’t count Miss Clegg’s Finishing School for Young Ladies. If it hadn’t been for Laura, my days there would have been miserable.”
Cook appeared with simple meat pies for each lady and quickly cleared off the soup bowls before returning to the kitchen.
Weariness and defeat overtook Clarissa as she lifted her spoon. Too exhausted to finish her meal, Clarissa said, “Gran, please excuse me. I fear I’m too tired for further conversation this evening.” Panic was starting to set in as fear of the unknown social obligations ahead of her started running through her head.
“Yes, of course, dear, sleep well. Perhaps an early morning ride will help clear your head as we start the next phase of our lives.”
Chapter Eleven
N icholas called, “Hello, anyone about?”
A man who might be a stable master appeared. “How can I help you, sir?”
“I’m here to meet Mrs. Abigail MacDonald. Where might I find her?” Nicholas asked.
“She’d be at the main house. Just follow the path and you can’t miss it.”
Nicholas left his horse and started up the path to the main house when he spotted the lovely derriere of a young lady rooting around in the shrubs. He heard a voice that was soothing and as soft as a purr. Who was this person and whom was she talking to?
The sound of kittens meowing in the nearby shrubs had gotten Clarissa’s attention as she approached the stables to take Figgy on a morning ride. They must be newborns, where was their mother? The kittens had to be gathered up and taken to the stable. They couldn’t stay out here in the open, unprotected.
Clarissa backed out of the shrubs and stood upright in front of Nicholas. “Oh, my, I beg your pardon,” she said before hurrying into the barn.
Nicholas strode the few steps to the stable entrance where his horse was being unsaddled. “Who was that enchanting young lady that dashed in here just moments ago?”
“I didn’t see anyone, sir. Perhaps it was one of the house maids coming from the orchards.”
Nicholas, thinking his time here wouldn’t be so bad if he got to spend time with a girl like that, proceeded to the Manor house where he knocked on massive oak doors draped in black crepe. His knock was answered by an older woman who asked him to wait while she announced his arrival.
Looking around the entry hall, he took note of the green marble floors and dark wood paneling all bathed in glorious light from the overhead windows. He’d have to remember that shade of green when next he mixed colors for a landscape painting.
He was shown into the East Parlor where he was greeted by Abigail. She did not rise as he entered but asked him to join her near the fireplace.
“Nicholas Granger at your service, Ma’am,” he said as he gave a slight bow from the waist.
“Do be seated,” she said as she gestured to a nearby high back chair that flanked the fireplace. “May I call you Nicholas? We are not so formal here as in the city.”
“But of course. May I call you Abigail?”
“That will be agreeable.” She paused. “So, you have recently come from France. What sort of business were you engaged in there?”
He wondered what kind of correspondence this woman had been exchanging with his father. Nicholas wanted to get off on the right foot with his father’s friend. Perhaps she would write glowing reports to his father about what a fine upstanding man he was.
Nicholas was young when they moved to France, so
it was only natural he didn’t remember having visited this estate before.
“I’ve been away from the States for several years now. As you know, we moved so Father could assume the post of Ambassador from the United States to France. I believe this is my first visit to Lochwood. I must say, it’s good to be on solid ground again. The voyage took four weeks.” He was grateful for the sunlight pouring in through the large windows, especially after being below deck for so long.
Abigail smiled and continued, “I understand the voyage is a treacherous one. Thank the stars you had a safe journey.”
“Yes, I was told our voyage was relatively smooth compared to some. We only had one rough patch.” Just reminiscing about the journey reminded him of how all the passengers had come down with seasickness due to the turbulent waters they had experienced. Fresh air on the upper deck had never been more welcome than when after the storm they were free to go out on the deck again.
Nicholas continued, “You asked what sort of business I was engaged in. I’ve been attending the Barbizon School of Naturalism in art, the painting that is, but my father sent me here to search for my brother who has recently gone missing. Our family holdings need personal attention as well and with father’s ambassador duties, he was unable to make the journey himself.”
This was all true to a point. What he neglected to add was that they hadn’t heard from his brother Liam in some time and they only assumed he had gotten himself into a rather tight spot by frequenting the card dens in Boston and probably owed more money than he could repay. We have it on good authority that strong arms were employed to find him. “I only hope I find him first.”
Abigail called for a tea tray. “I see,” commented Abigail thoughtfully as she rested her thin hands in her lap. “What do you know about the arrangements agreed upon by your father and me?”
“Only that I was to come here, and you would provide room and board.” Nicholas rose and moved closer to the fire, hands behind his back.
Clarissa: Historical Romance (Chronicles of the Hudson River Valley Book 1) Page 6
