She looked at herself in the mirror with satisfaction before she said,
“Come along, Mama! The Duke is longing to meet you and I think he is going to be impressed with both of us.”
“I hope so, dearest,” Mrs. Mansforde replied. “I would not wish to let you down.”
Lais did not speak.
Mena bent forward to kiss her mother on the cheek.
“You look very beautiful, Mama, and I know everybody downstairs will tell you so.”
Mrs. Mansforde smiled at her.
“Goodnight, my darling,” she said, “don’t wait up for me. The housemaid will help me undress.”
“I will be awake, and I will help you,” Mena promised.
Lais was already outside in the corridor waiting impatiently.
As they walked down the corridor to the top of the Grand Staircase, Mena slipped back into the bedroom.
It would be a mistake for any of the other guests to see her.
It was only a minute or so before two housemaids came into the room to tidy it.
“I am going next door,” Mena told them. “Have you any idea what time I shall have my dinner?”
“I understands a footman’s bringin’ it up now,” one of the maids replied. “It’s sure to be late before they finishes in the dinin’ room.”
“That is very kind,” Mena murmured.
She thought that she would eat her dinner quickly.
Then she would be able to slip into the garden without anybody seeing her.
She found that it was a very easy thing to do.
Her supper, for she could hardly call it dinner, was delicious, but consisted of only two courses and some fruit.
“If you wants anythin’ else, miss,” the footman said who was waiting on her, “the chef says as ’e’ll do ’is best, but there’s more to dinner tonight than ’e expected.’
“I have everything I want,” Mena assured him, “and please thank the chef very much for thinking of me.”
She ate quickly, knowing that the footman was in a hurry to get back to the pantry.
As he carried away her tray, she heard through the open door the sound of voices from below. She knew that it was the guests moving from the room they had assembled in before dinner.
They were going to the dining room.
She wished she could watch them, but knew that it was impossible.
It was a blessing that she was now free for at least the next two hours.
Without waiting to put on a hat, she went out bareheaded as she always did at home.
She found a secondary staircase and, as she expected, not far from it on the ground floor there was a door leading into the garden.
She let herself out.
The gardens were just as impressive as she had thought they would be from what she had seen from the window.
There was a large fountain and it was throwing its water into the air so that it caught the last rays of the setting sun. It rose from the centre of a beautiful carved stone basin.
And swimming among the water lilies there were a number of goldfish.
She went on through other parts of the garden until she came to an orchard full of fruit trees.
From there she could see a paddock and, as she approached it, she could see that there were a number of jumps set up on the level ground.
She looked at them and realised that beyond them was the entrance to the stables.
She was just wondering if she dared to go and look at the horses when a man came through the gate.
He was riding a horse that was rearing and bucking and Mena moved back a little so that she was in the shadow of one of the fruit trees.
She watched with delight as the man struggled to control the horse under him.
She could see he was an excellent rider and had the same expertise that her father had.
The horse was still fighting him, but not so determinedly as he had done at first.
Mena thought with a little smile that the man was winning and she knew how satisfactory that would be for him.
The man then turned the horse round and rode him towards the first jump.
It was quite a high one, but Mena saw that she could have cleared it easily.
The horse drew near to it at a fast pace.
Then, just as he reached it, he deliberately stopped dead.
At the same time he put his head down so that his rider could not avoid being thrown.
Although he struggled to keep his balance, he fell against the fence.
The horse, delighted to be free of him, then galloped away.
Mena gave a little gasp.
Then she pushed open the iron gate that was just in front of her and ran towards the fence.
The man was sprawled on the ground and she went down on her knees beside him.
As she did so, he sat up and stared at her.
“Are you – hurt?” she asked breathlessly.
There was a surprised expression in his eyes as he asked,
“Are you Aphrodite?”
Because the question was so unexpected Mena gave a little laugh.
“I am not as important as that,” she replied. “I am only – Philomena.”
It was the sort of answer that she would have given her father and she spoke instinctively before realising that she had been indiscreet.
The stranger smiled.
She was aware that he was an exceedingly good-looking young man.
He was wearing no jacket, and tucked inside the open neck of his shirt was a loosely tied handkerchief.
“Philomena!” he said. “So I was not so far off the mark!”
“I was afraid – you must have hurt – yourself,” Mena murmured.
“I might have,” he replied, “but I was expecting him to do something like that.”
The horse had not gone very far and was now cropping the grass.
“He is a magnificent animal,” Mena remarked admiringly.
“That is what I think,” the man answered. “But he is going to take a great deal of breaking in.”
He rose to his feet as he spoke and brushed the dust off his riding breeches.
“Come and have a look at him,” he suggested.
“I would love to,” Mena replied.
They walked side by side over the ground towards the stallion.
He was certainly one of the finest horses that Mena had ever seen.
“Have you had him long?” she asked.
“He arrived here a week ago,” the man answered. “This is only the second time I have ridden him.”
Mena thought that the stallion must belong to the Duke and this man had been instructed to break him in.
The stallion looked up at their approach.
Then very gently Mena put out her hand to pat him and to her surprise the horse nuzzled against her.
“He seems to have taken to you,” the man said, “but perhaps you have the magic of your name.”
She glanced at him questioningly and he added,
“Unless I am mistaken, ‘Philomena’ means ‘I am loved’ and I imagine that extends to animals as well as human beings.”
Mena laughed.
She thought it extraordinary that anyone who appeared to hold no more than a subordinate kind of position should be aware of the meaning of her name.
Then she had a sudden idea and she asked,
“Did this horse belong to a woman before it came here?”
The man thought for a moment before he replied,
“He came from Ireland and his previous owner was the Countess O’Kerry.”
Mena was still patting the stallion and she realised as she did so that he was responding to her.
Just as the horses in the stables at home appreciated it when she made a fuss of them.
She turned to the man who was watching her and asked him,
“I have an idea that I would like to try to prove. Will you kindly help me into the saddle?”
He stared at her in
astonishment.
“Are you really suggesting that you can manage a horse like that? You have just seen what he did to me!”
“I think his behaviour was entirely due to the fact that you are a man,” Mena said.
“Why should you think that? And how can you, looking as you do, have any real knowledge of horses?”
Mena laughed.
“Lift me up!” she ordered.
“I will not be responsible if you break your neck.”
“I will take the risk.”
Slowly and, she thought, reluctantly, the man lifted her into the saddle. She was aware that he was nervous and certain that the stallion would immediately throw her off.
She took the reins into her hands and, talking softly, she said,
“Now, take me for a little walk. There is no hurry, and you can, I know, be a good boy if you want to be.”
The stallion twitched his ears as if he was listening to the sound of her voice.
Then she took him without hurrying down the centre of the paddock between the jumps.
The ground was smooth and flat and they reached the end of the paddock.
She then turned back.
The man, who had come a little way with her to be ready to catch her if she fell, had stopped.
She walked the stallion back to him.
When she reached him, she slipped to the ground before he could help her.
She patted the stallion and thanked him for the ride he had given her.
Then she looked at the man who was watching them both.
“There is your answer,” she said. “He misses his Mistress and resents you as a man taking her place.”
“I was mistaken,” the man asserted. “I thought you were a Goddess, but now I know you are a witch!”
“A white one, I hope!” Mena said quickly. “But I have to admit that my father once told me that he had had a horse who would never allow a man to ride him.”
“It is something I have heard of before and I want to hear a great deal more about it. But I will first stable Conqueror.”
“Perhaps I had better do that for you,” Mena suggested.
She was still holding the reins and they were walking towards the end of the ground where she knew the stables were situated.
Then just ahead of them she could see that there were a number of grooms and stable boys moving about.
She thought it would be a mistake for her to be seen by them and so she stopped.
“I had better wait for you here,” she said.
“Why?” the man asked. “I would like to show you some of the other horses.”
“And I would love to see them, but perhaps another time when there will not be so many – other people – about.”
“Then wait here,” the man said, “and I will come back.”
He took the stallion’s bridle from her and instantly the horse’s head went up.
He seemed to resent the man being close beside him.
‘I am right,’ Mena thought to herself as they moved away. ‘Conqueror is obviously on the defensive.’
She so wished that she could tell her father what she had just discovered.
‘Papa would have been very interested,’ she mused.
Since he had died there had been no one to talk to about horses.
In case she had been seen she moved a little way back in the direction that she had come from.
She was thinking that there was nothing she would enjoy more than jumping over the fences.
Sooner than she expected, the man was beside her.
She guessed that he must have handed over the stallion to somebody else to put him into his stall.
“Now,” he said, “you have a great deal to tell me and I am wondering where we can talk. Shall we go into the garden?”
Mena hesitated.
Then she said,
“Is there somewhere where we cannot be seen from the house?”
“Yes, of course,” he answered, “but why the secrecy? Or are you actually a Goddess who had just arrived from Olympus to bewilder mankind and not just me?”
Mena laughed and it was a very pretty sound.
“How can you know so much about the Greeks?” she asked him.
“I happen to have recently been staying in Greece and I think your question is somewhat insulting.”
The colour rose in Mena’s cheeks.
Then, as she looked away because she was embarrassed, he laughed to put her at ease.
There was silence until he said,
“I am waiting for an answer.”
“I thought – perhaps you are here to – break in the horses,” Mena said hesitatingly.
“That is exactly what I do,” he replied, “and now tell me your position.”
“I-I am companion to Mrs. Mansforde.”
“Companion?” the man exclaimed.
Then in a different tone he said,
“Mansforde! Is she some relation to Lionel Mansforde who wrote those fascinating articles in the Geographical Magazine?”
Mena gave a little cry.
“You have read them?”
“I consider them the best description of the Ancient Greeks I have ever read,” the man replied.
“I am so glad you said that. I know – ”
Mena stopped.
She was just going to say “I know Papa would have been thrilled,” then she remembered who she was supposed to be.
A little lamely she changed it to,
“I-I know Mrs. Mansforde would be delighted to hear you say that. He was her husband, but he died about a year ago.”
“Died?” the man exclaimed. “I had no idea of that! He will be a great loss.”
Mena drew in her breath.
She had thought that the series of articles on Classical Greece that her father had written for the Geographical Magazine were the best he had ever done.
“You must write a book, Papa,” she had said to him.
“Perhaps I will one day,” her father had replied vaguely.
He really only made notes of what he had seen and he wrote entirely to please himself.
“It was reading those articles,” the man was saying “that made me determined to go to Greece and I found them invaluable in helping me to understand all that is left there to see and appreciate.”
“I love them too,” Mena said.
Without her realising it, the man had led her to a part of the garden that was hidden from the house.
A small cascade of a small stream poured down over some rocks.
It joined a stream that ran down the other side of the garden and eventually reached a large lake.
By the cascade there was a stone seat.
Mena looked at the water pouring between some strange plants which she was sure had come from lands overseas and sat down.
“Now I must know the rest,” he insisted. “We know that your name is ‘Philomena’ and mine is ‘Lindon’.”
“I like that name,” Mena said, “because unlike my own, you cannot easily shorten it.”
“I suppose that is true,” he agreed, “but if, as I expect you are called ‘Mena’, it suits you. I expect you have heard that before.”
“From at least three-quarters of the people who have ever spoken to me!” Mena replied.
They both laughed.
She told herself that despite his gentlemanly ways Lindon obviously must be poor.
That must be the explanation for his taking the job of breaking in the horses.
“Should you be here?” she asked.
It was as if he followed the train of her thoughts because he replied,
“The penalty is worth the risk and, as you have just seen, I have learnt to take a fall without hurting myself.”
“But you must be careful and I am sure where Conqueror is concerned it would be better if you let a woman make him more docile.”
“Is that what you want to do?” Lindon asked.
Mena glanced at him before sh
e said,
“It is something I would enjoy more than I can possibly say, but I am sure it is incorrect for a mere companion to ride.”
“I cannot think why,” Lindon objected. “They eat, they sleep, they walk and doubtless dance! So is there any reason why riding should be reprehensible?”
“No, I suppose not,” Mena agreed. “It is just that I cannot ask the permission of His Grace.”
“There is no reason why you should,” Lindon said. “I am in charge of the horses and therefore, if you want to ride, I will arrange it for you.”
Mena clasped her hands together.
“Do you mean that – do you really – mean it? You will not – get into trouble?”
He shook his head.
“Then perhaps – when everybody else is doing – something different – ?” Mena said tentatively.
“Leave it to me,” he interrupted. “I imagine you are free from your duties after breakfast?”
“Later than that. I think my – Mrs. Mansforde will have breakfast in bed.”
“Well, as soon as you can escape, meet me at the top of the wood where I will be waiting for you.”
Mena drew in her breath.
“Are you quite – certain you will – not get into – trouble?”
“I am an expert at keeping out of it. Now come along and I will show you where we can meet. It is not far from here.”
He took her along a twisting path through the trees and she soon found that the wood ended suddenly.
There were flat fields extending for some way ahead.
“It would be wonderful to ride here!” she exclaimed.
“Then that is what we will do,” the man smiled.
As he spoke Mena was aware that the sun had disappeared over the horizon and there was only a glimmer of light left in the sky.
“I must go back!” she said quickly. “Even if nobody else notices I am missing, the servants will think it strange that I am so long in the garden.”
“I will take you back,” he said, “by a special route so that you will not be seen.”
They walked without speaking.
Then, as dusk began to fall, they were outside the garden door that Mena had left the house through.
“This is the way I escaped,” she pointed out.
“Now you know your way,” he said. “I will be expecting to see you at eleven o’clock and don’t keep me waiting too long.”
“I will try not to,” she said, “but you do realise that I have no riding habit with me?”
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