Riding In the Sky

by Barbara Cartland

It was hard, she thought, but he would have to refuse as there was nothing else he could do.

  “I really don’t know what to say, my Lord,” Mark murmured after a moment.

  “Then let me say it for you,” the Marquis said. “You and Fifi will stay the night and grace the celebrations that will take place this evening. Tomorrow I want you to enter for the two races, either with your own horse or, if you prefer, my stable is at your disposal.”

  Filipa saw Mark draw in his breath.

  She knew that the Marquis was tempting him as surely as if he rather than Lord Daverton were dressed as Faust.

  Then, as Filipa gave a little cry of protest, he said,

  “If you are thinking that you have no luggage with you, Fifi, I can either send for it or, what would make things very much easier, I am sure that my housekeeper could provide you with anything you require.”

  Almost as if he had conjured it up like a genie, Filipa could see her pathetic little wardrobe at The Manor.

  There was not a single evening gown she could wear without looking like a beggar-maid.

  She wondered frantically what she could say to persuade the Marquis that they must leave.

  “It would be – impossible to – provide me with – everything,” Filipa stammered.

  “Now once again you are challenging me, Fifi,” he replied. “As it happens, there are quite a lot of ladies’ clothes in this house. My housekeeper, who is an inveterate hoarder, has for years kept everything my sisters wore and even, I think, my mother’s clothes.”

  “I still – think it would be better if we – left,” Filipa murmured unhappily.

  “Shall I take that as an insult?”

  “No – no – of course – not. It’s just that it is very – difficult to – upset all our arrangements.”

  She felt her explanation sounded weak even as she said it and she was not really surprised when the Marquis replied,

  “Leave everything to me. You must realise by this time that I enjoy organisation from whatever direction it comes.”

  He smiled before he went on,

  “You must, therefore, Fifi, allow me to organise you tonight and tomorrow and I presume, as you did not bring any clothes with you except what you are now wearing, you will also need a riding habit.”

  Despite every resolution, Filipa was tempted.

  If she could stay until tomorrow and ride Skylark again or one of the Marquis’s horses, it would be something to remember.

  She would think of it when she was alone in The Manor with Mark in London and nothing eventful happening from one week to the next.

  The Marquis was watching her and, as if he was aware that he had won, he said quietly,

  “Leave everything to me and I am sure I will be able to make you enjoy yourself.”

  Chapter four

  Watching Mark riding in the afternoon was very exciting for Filipa.

  She could not help wishing that she was riding herself.

  What convinced her that they could not leave as they had intended was that both she and Mark must have the opportunity tomorrow not so much of winning another race as of riding the Marquis’s horses.

  She saw the excitement on Mark’s face when he was third in a race in which the Marquis was easily the winner.

  He was happy and really enjoying himself.

  ‘If only he could do this more often,’ she thought.

  It would persuade him not to spend so much time in his Clubs in London, drinking and, of course, gambling.

  The thought of the one thousand guineas that they had won together kept coming into her mind.

  She had the uncomfortable feeling that Mark, whatever he might say, would eventually give some of the money to Lulu.

  ‘How can he be so foolish,’ she asked, ‘as to compete with Lord Daverton?’

  She had, however, to admit that old as he was with obvious marks of debauchery on his face, he was an excellent rider.

  He was first in one race in which neither Mark nor the Marquis competed.

  Immediately Filipa saw Lulu congratulating him and, she thought, fawning on him!

  This made her suspect that the Pretty Horse-Breaker would expect another diamond necklace or something like it.

  ‘It all seems to be very sordid,’ she told herself.

  Although yesterday she would have thought it impossible, she was glad when the racing came to an end.

  Everyone went back to the house.

  She had not been afraid of meeting anyone she knew amongst the crowd.

  The Marquis had provided for his house party a large brake with plenty of seats from which they could watch the racing, while servants served refreshments.

  There was only one race during the afternoon in which the Pretty Horse-Breakers took part and, as Filipa had no habit, she was glad that she was not invited to participate.

  It was quite late when they returned to The Hall.

  Filipa quickly went upstairs, thinking that, if they were not returning home, she would be wise to rest before dinner.

  Emily was in her bedroom and, when she had helped Filipa take off her bonnet, she said,

  “Mrs. Meadows, that’s the housekeeper, miss, wishes to speak to you.”

  Filipa knew that this was about the clothes she had to borrow and she hoped that the housekeeper would be friendlier than she had seemed when they arrived.

  She realised, however, as soon as Mrs. Meadows came into the bedroom, that she was extremely hostile.

  “I’m informed, miss,” she said in a cold distant voice, “that you’re stayin’ the night and, as you’ve nothin’ with you, his Lordship wishes me to provide a gown for you to wear at dinner and a habit you can ride in tomorrow.”

  “I am afraid that it’s a great nuisance,” Filipa said apologetically, “but I thought that Sir Mark and I were leaving today when the racing finished.”

  The expression on Mrs. Meadows’ face said quite eloquently without words that it would have been a good thing if they had.

  However, after a pause she said reluctantly,

  “Well, I suppose I must see what I can do. But I’ll make no promises. The sort of clothes you’d wear, miss, are not what I’ve in store.”

  As Filipa thought that she might be left with nothing, she said,

  “Please – help me. I am sure – what you have in this – wonderful house will be far – better than anything I possess.”

  She thought that Mrs. Meadows looked surprised and she realised that she had spoken as herself rather than as a Pretty Horse-Breaker.

  She felt that she ought to make an explanation, so she said hesitatingly,

  “I have been living very quietly in the country because I have been – in mourning for my father, so I have not bought – anything fashionable for a – long time.”

  For the first time the housekeeper’s eyes seemed to soften a little.

  As if the words were dragged from her, she then said,

  “I might find an evenin’ gown that belonged to one of his Lordship’s sisters. It’d be very plain and ladylike, if you know what I mean.”

  Filipa knew exactly what she meant, but thought it a mistake to say so.

  Instead she answered,

  “Thank you very much and I am sure that no one will – notice me.”

  She hoped that was true and the one person she most wanted not to notice her was Lord Daverton.

  “Then there’s the ridin’ habit,” Mrs. Meadows went on. “I’ve nothin’, absolutely nothin’, miss, to compare with the habits those young women were wearin’ this afternoon.”

  Filipa almost laughed.

  The way the Pretty Horse-Breakers were dressed after luncheon had made her stare at them in astonishment.

  Never had she expected to see on horseback a woman wearing a crimson velvet habit frogged with white braid nor an emerald-coloured silk one with buttons studded with diamanté.

  She thought that in the hunting field even the foxhounds would have been astonished. />
  She could imagine how angry her father would have been if she appeared like that.

  “Please, Mrs. Meadows,” she pleaded, “find me something very plain and – ordinary. I want to ride – not to think about anything else.”

  She was about to say, ‘show myself off.’

  But she thought that it would be rude to the Pretty Horse-Breakers of whom she was supposed to be one.

  She realised that she had said the right thing when Mrs. Meadows replied,

  “In that case I can accommodate you – miss.”

  There was a little pause before she said the word ‘miss’, as if she said it with a question mark.

  Filipa wondered innocently if some of the Pretty Horse-Breakers were married women.

  She had hardly had time to look at them at all closely at luncheon, as she was so conscious of the Marquis sitting next to her and asking her questions.

  Also Mark was, she thought, making himself somewhat conspicuous with Lulu.

  In fact they had hurried through the meal, but she expected that it would be different at dinner.

  She only hoped that the Marquis would not single her out again.

  She would just keep quiet and watch the others without anyone noticing her particularly.

  Emily helped her to undress and, when she lay down in the big comfortable bed with its curtains falling from the ceiling, she fell asleep.

  She was dreaming that once again she was racing and awoke with a start at what she thought was the thunder of the hoofs.

  It was in reality Emily pouring water into her bath, which had been brought into the room and arranged on the hearthrug in front of the small fire.

  It was so exciting to be enjoying such luxury that Filipa did not move, but lay in bed wishing that they could entertain guests as lavishly at The Manor.

  In that case Mark would be happy to bring his friends home and without having to be ashamed that there was only old Smeaton to wait on them.

  Then she quoted to herself with a little smile,

  ‘If wishes were horses, beggars might ride.’

  Which was exactly what she was able to do at the moment.

  ‘This wills never, never happen to me again.’ she thought as she climbed out of bed.

  She bathed in the scented water while Emily held a large Turkish towel to wrap her in as soon as she had finished washing.

  Mrs. Meadows had brought her two gowns, both of which Filipa thought were very pretty.

  They had small but distinctive bustles and one of them was made of frills of pleated chiffon that swept back from the front and had almost a Grecian look.

  She thought for a moment that she had seen it somewhere before.

  Then she realised that in a ladies’ journal that the Vicar’s wife had lent her last year, there had been featured a gown designed by Frederick Worth in Paris in a very similar style.

  “That is so pretty,” she said to Emily.

  “It belongs to his Lordship’s sister, Lady Penelope,” Emily answered. “She always leaves some of her clothes here and then forgets that we have ’em.”

  “Are you sure she will not mind my wearing it?” Filipa asked.

  Emily laughed.

  “Don’t you worry about that, miss. Lady Penelope’s ever so extravagant. I’m sure when she comes again she’ll say this dress is only fit for the dustbin and she’ll have everythin’ she wears new and ever so fashionable.”

  “I would love to wear it,” Filipa sighed.

  It was certainly very different from the plain muslin she wore at home which she had made herself from some material her mother had bought before she had died.

  “There’s another one Mrs. Meadows left for you,” Emily said, “but it’s not so pretty.”

  Filipa supposed that Mrs. Meadows had brought it because it was a very bright colour.

  In emerald green it was much more elaborate with flounces and pieces of embroidery besides a cluster of white gardenias on the puffed sleeves.

  One look told her that she would be overwhelmed in it and it was not the sort of gown that her mother would have chosen for her.

  She had the uncomfortable feeling, however, that Mark might think it more spectacular than the white chiffon.

  “I will wear the white gown,” she said to Emily, “and please take the other back to Mrs. Meadows and thank her very much for her kindness.”

  “I’ll do that, miss,” Emily replied.

  She had just left the room when there was a tap on the communicating door and Mark looked in.

  “I wondered if you were getting up,” he said. “Don’t be late for dinner. I will collect you in about five minutes.”

  “What have you been doing?” Filipa asked.

  “Playing billiards,” Mark replied. “I won a fiver.”

  Filipa gave a cry of horror.

  “Oh, Mark, you were not gambling?”

  “I told you I won.”

  “That is not the point. You might have lost! Oh, please, please be careful! You know we need every penny of the one thousand guineas.”

  She was thinking, as she spoke, of Lulu.

  She saw Mark’s lips tighten for a moment before he said,

  “I have given you my word, Filipa, that you shall have one quarter of it. I also promised you that I would pay for Hercules.”

  Filipa wanted to ask him to swear on his honour that he would not give anything to Lulu and then she thought that it might make him angry.

  Instead she said,

  “You know that this is the one opportunity you have of clearing your debts, for there is nothing – really nothing left to – sell at home.”

  There was a little sob in her voice that Mark did not miss and he said,

  “I am well aware of the plight we are in, so don’t worry. I owe you a great deal for helping me today and I will try not to do anything foolish.”

  “Please do,” Filipa pleaded. “I am sure that Papa and Mama helped us to win the race and they would both be very disappointed if we dissipated what we had won.”

  “I have given you my word,” Mark said, going back into his own room and closing the door.

  Filipa heaved a deep sigh.

  She could understand how frustrating it was for him to be amongst all these rich people and to have no money of his own.

  At the same time she was very very grateful that they had won the race with its enormous prize.

  If Mark threw away their winnings, she felt that she could not bear it.

  Emily came hurrying back to help her into the pretty white gown and Filipa knew when she inspected herself in the mirror that she looked exactly as her mother would have wanted her to look.

  She had been quite smart on arriving in her mother’s blue dress, but the gown she was now wearing accentuated her small waist.

  Also the soft folds of chiffon round the neck made her look very young as well as very pure and innocent, although she did not realise it.

  Emily arranged her hair with little curls at the back and put on top of them two white roses that were not yet fully in bloom.

  “Where did those come from?” Filipa asked.

  “The gardeners brings up flowers in the evenin’ for the ladies and buttonholes for the gentlemen,” Emily answered. “I took these from the tray because I thinks, miss, you resembled ’em.”

  Filipa laughed.

  “Thank you, Emily, that is the nicest compliment I have ever had and I only hope it is true.”

  At the same time she had the uncomfortable feeling that Mark would criticise her for looking more like a lady than a Pretty Horse-Breaker.

  She therefore quickly applied the rouge to her cheeks and reddened her lips.

  Mark then tapped on the outer door and, opening it, he called out,

  “Come along. You will be late if you don’t hurry.”

  “I have not kept you waiting,” Filipa replied.

  “No, I have had trouble with a shirt stud,” Mark answered.

  As Filipa jo
ined him outside, he added,

  “These are Papa’s. I really need new ones.”

  Filipa did not say anything. She merely looked at him and he said irritably,

  “All right! I know it is something we cannot afford, but you need not rub it in.”

  “I said nothing.”

  “I could feel your thoughts sticking into me,” he answered.

  It was the sort of thing he had said sometimes when they were young and, because it was funny, they both started to laugh.

  They were still smiling as they went into the big salon where everyone was assembling before dinner.

  Not all of the Pretty Horse-Breakers were there.

  Those who were present were more flamboyant than Filipa had ever imagined they would be.

  Their bustles were enormous, so large that they looked as if it would be impossible for the wearer to sit down.

  They all glittered with jewellery, necklaces, brooches and rings on their ears and fingers.

  Every one of them had the décolletage of their gown cut so low that Filipa after one startled glance was shocked.

  Mark was suddenly aware that she was wearing something quite different from the others.

  “Where did you get that gown?” he asked in a low voice.

  “You know I had to borrow it,” Filipa replied.

  She saw him glance at her red lips, as if at least they were reassuring.

  Because she realised that she looked out of place she hoped that no one would notice her.

  The Marquis, however, picked up a glass of champagne from the gold tray on which it was being handed round and gave it into her hand.

  “You have a great deal to celebrate, Fifi,” he said, “and the first thing we must do is to drink your health.”

  She had tried to hide behind Mark as they moved down the room.

  Now she and the Marquis were standing a little away from the other guests who were all chattering loudly.

  “Please,” Filipa said in a voice that only he could hear, “do not – drink my health or draw – attention to me. It makes me – feel shy.”

  The Marquis looked at her as if he thought that she could not be speaking sincerely.

  Then, as she lifted her eyes to his with a pleading expression in them, he said,

  “If that is what you wish. But it’s not usual for someone who rides as well as you to be so modest about it.”