by Ella Edon
He sat up a little straighter on the horse. "Miss Robbins, this is a time-honored way for anyone to learn to ride. I believe I mentioned that Her Ladyship is riding this same pony herself."
"Yes, but not in the streets of Birdwell for all and sundry to see!"
Suddenly, there was an iron grip at her elbow, pushing her firmly towards the horse and pony at the edge of the walk. "Merope, you do look so lovely in your new riding habit," her mother said, as sweetly as Merope had ever heard her speak. "Don't you agree, Mr. Brookford?"
"Yes indeed, Mrs. Robbins, I certainly do."
"She is entirely outfitted in a fashionable new habit, with equally new boots and gloves and bonnet." The grip at Merope’s elbow tightened. "Of course, Laurie and Hilda and I will have to do extra tasks today to make up for her absence. But we are all happy to do that, so that – " The gripping hand gave her a little shake – "so that our dear Merope can accept this very generous offer that you and Earl Worthington have made her. I am sure you appreciate it as much as we do, do you not, my dear?"
By that time, more than a few people were walking along in the street or riding past. None of them failed to notice the little gathering in front of the inn. Merope knew that it was too late to back out now, and there was nothing for it, but to get on the pony and ride to Worthington.
Merope forced herself to smile. "Of course, Mother. I am very grateful to all of you and to Mr. Brookford. And with that – " She wrenched away from her mother's grasp and moved to the edge of the boardwalk. She did not look at any of them, Sally included. "I really must be going."
"Excellent," said James, and slipped down to the ground. "Let me help you mount up."
Still holding Vireo's reins, Mr. Brookford turned the pony, so that he stood with his left side along the boardwalk. "There, now. It's the perfect height. All you need do is slide onto the saddle, and then hook your right knee around the horn."
"Horn?" Merope looked at the saddle and saw a slender piece of wood, a few inches long, attached to the front left side. It curved upward in a shape like the letter c and was covered with thick leather.
"It's just so you can sit more securely. Turn sideways and sit down on the saddle – that's it, very good! Now, arrange the skirt of your habit, so you can hook your right knee over the horn. Exactly! Here is the stirrup for your left foot – just so – and here are your reins. Now we are ready to go!"
Merope felt afraid to move as she sat on the little pony. Mr. Brookford remounted his horse and she looked up at him, wishing she could take a moment to appreciate the sight of him, sitting tall on the very elegant, long-legged horse. His own legs were quite long, too, she saw, and the lines of him were as graceful as the sleek hunter that he rode.
She kept hold of the reins that Mr. Brookford had handed to her – very short reins, buckled together in the middle, so that she could hold them in one hand. Her sideways perch, with her knee caught around the horn, seemed very, very precarious. The pony felt like a huge, overstuffed cushion beneath her, and all she could see of him was his mass of thick black mane and his tiny ears, moving about within all that hair.
"And, we are off! Goodbye, Mrs. Robbins. I will have both Miss Robbins and Miss Henson safely home in an hour or two, at most."
But Merope forgot all about trying to wave farewell or do anything else, for Blackbird turned sharply around as James pulled on his head with the leadline. Then the pony hurried along, with quick little steps as he tried to keep up with the very tall horse. She couldn’t help but notice that Sally Henson was not on a leadline at all. She was riding next to Mr. Brookford, her much taller mare fully able to keep up with Vireo.
Merope fell forward, trying to hunch down close to the pony's neck and find something to grab onto so she would not fall. She settled for locking her fingers into the roots of his mane. Somehow, she kept hold of the reins at the same time.
Suddenly, Merope was very glad that her mount was as small as he was. At least, it was not far to the ground, if she proved unable to stay perched on the sidesaddle.
"Miss Robbins. If you sit tall and look ahead, it will help you to keep your balance," said Mr. Brookford. She realized that he sat very high above her on the long-legged Vireo. "And slide over to the middle of him, instead of hanging off of the left side. There! That's better."
“How am I doing, Mr. Brookford?” Sally asked.
“Very well, Sally,” he replied. “You’re a natural.”
“I have never ridden side-saddle before,” Sally said with a laugh. “I’ve only ever ridden old Pipit, when I was very small.”
Merope found the whole business terribly awkward. How on earth did women ride for miles like this? It seemed as though she was going to come right off of the pony with every tiny little step he took. When she glanced over at Sally, it was clear that she was not uncomfortable in the slightest. She was beaming at Mr. Brookford. Even a few paces behind them, Merope could see everything.
"Sit straight, Miss Robbins," Mr. Brookford commanded, though his voice was kind. "If you hunch down, it's harder to maintain balance. Lean back a bit. You may continue to hold onto Blackbird's mane, if it helps you to feel more secure."
She managed to sit a little straighter, and then tightened her grip on the pony's thick mane just in time for he broke into a trot in an effort to keep up with the long-striding Vireo. For a moment, she panicked at the quick hard steps that bounced her on the saddle with every beat, but thankfully, Blackbird slowed to a walk again before she could be jolted off.
"He is just making an effort to keep up," said Mr. Brookford, laughing. "Keep sitting up very straight and it will be easier for you. Just ride his little bounces as they come, and you will do fine."
Merope felt exhausted already and they had not even reached the end of the street. It was over a mile to Worthington and they were quite likely to meet farmers, and other local folk, traveling the road. The combination of fear and humiliation was not a good one, and again, she was ready to step down and walk back to the inn, and never see Mr. Brookford ever again.
But she was not brave enough to get down without stopping the pony – especially with her right leg all hung up on the saddle – and Mr. Brookford kept Blackbird moving at a good pace down the street.
In a moment, they were passing the Hawkins Livery Stable at the far northern end of the street. Merope was concentrating on trying to keep her balance every time the little pony broke into a jog – which was frequently, since it was the only way he could keep up with the tall horse.
Merope looked straight ahead and made herself sit up as tall and proud and look as unconcerned as she could. She did keep a tight hold of Blackbird's mane and the next time he trotted, she found herself riding it out much more easily.
Chapter Eleven
Somehow, Merope stayed on the sidesaddle, as little Blackbird alternately walked and trotted down the road from Birdwell to Worthington. Both Mr. Brookford and Sally seemed to be enjoying the trip very much, sitting high above her on their much taller horses with the long smooth strides. They carried on a conversation as though they were sitting at the dinner table, but all the while, Merope steadfastly ignored them both. She remained determined to act as though she was having no difficulty with riding at all.
They reached the foot of the hill and she saw the start of the lane that led up to the house at Worthington. Perhaps going uphill would be a little easier. She would just have to lean forward and hold on and –
"You are doing so well, Miss Robbins, that I think you can go the rest of the way on your own," she heard Mr. Brookford say. Suddenly, one end of the leadline slid through the pony's bridle – it had just been a long, thin strap, doubled over – and Blackbird was traveling on his own.
Merope had no idea of how to guide him, when the reins were lost in the thick tangle of mane that she gripped. She eventually noticed that Mr. Brookford had slowed Vireo and was allowing the pony to go first up the back-and-forth lane that gradually led up the hillside. Well, Worthin
gton was Blackbird's home and Merope did know that all horses were strongly attracted to their homes. It looked like all she had to was stay on and let him take her up to the house.
The pony lowered his head as he made his way up the sloping lane. She had no choice, but to lean forward if she wanted to keep her hold on the roots of his mane, but it worked well enough. She just wished that her back did not feel twisted out of shape as she tried to lean forward, and sit sideways, at the same time.
Her irritation only grew, when both Mr. Brookford and Sally kept up a continuous conversation that consisted mostly of trying to give her instruction. "Lean forward, Miss Robbins," he called. "Sit well over his front legs to go uphill. Do not hang off the side, or you'll pull him off balance. There, now! That's quite good. Just give him his head and he will make his way up on his own."
“How am I doing, Mr. Brookford?” Sally asked in a syrupy sweet voice.
“Very good, Sally. I don’t believe that you need much in the way of instruction. Old Pipit has done his job well.”
Merope felt that her blood was fairly boiling by the time Blackbird reached the top of the lane, and the great house of Worthington came into sight. She sat back a little as he crossed in front of the house, silently praying that neither the earl nor his wife, the countess, would be out on the front portico. Fortunately, they were nowhere to be seen – but Merope had the suspicion that they were watching with great amusement from somewhere behind the draperies.
Once past the house, the pony moved even faster. They were approaching the large stone barn now, when suddenly, Blackbird broke into a trot on his own – and he was no longer on the leadline.
"Miss Robbins!" called Mr. Brookford. "Make him walk! Don't let him rush to the stable!"
But it was no use. Merope realized that the pony was in a hurry to get back to the stables, where he was always fed and allowed to rest. His little trotting strides became faster and faster, and then – to Merope's horror – he seemed to be galloping straight to the dark and cave-like opening of the enormous barn.
She had no idea how to make him stop. Her fingers were still locked in his mane, for she would have bounced right off otherwise. "Mr. Brookford!" she cried. "Blackbird! Stop!"
Bouncing wildly, Merope held on even tighter as the little pony galloped right up to the barn. She closed her eyes and hid her face, waiting for the worst –
"Whoa, now, what's this? Come here, you rascal. Whoa, now."
The voice was calm and authoritative. Merope bounced one more time, very sharply, as the pony finally stopped. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see the kind face of an older man dressed in plain work clothes. He was one of the grooms, evidently, and he had a good hold of Blackbird's bridle.
"There, now, miss. Are you all right? He is a good pony, but something of a scallywag when it comes to the stables."
Forcing herself to breathe again, Merope sat up straight and tried to regain her nerve. No matter how frightened she was, she was equally determined never to let James Brookford or Sally Henson know anything about it.
"I am quite all right," she managed to say. "Thank you. Now, if I can just – "
"Miss Robbins! Miss Robbins! Whatever are you doing? We are to ride out across the hilltops and go see the cattle herds – out near the spot where the picnic was held. Turn him back this way!"
If ever in her life Merope's temper would explode, it would be now, for this entire episode was proving to be exactly what her mother had said it would be. She was frustrated, helpless, miserably uncomfortable, and at Mr. Brookford and Sally's mercy. She felt like crying out in anger and humiliation – but instead, all she did was make herself sit up straight and turn to both of them with a tight smile.
"The hilltops?" she said, with all innocence. "Oh. I thought I was to return the pony to the stables. I am sorry." Then she turned to the groom, who still held the bridle. "Would you be so kind as to help me turn around? As you heard, we are continuing our ride out to the cattle pastures."
"Of course, miss." Merope nearly lost her balance again as the pony made another sudden sharp turn to face the other way, and then she caught sight of James sitting high up on Vireo. Sally was beside him, looking very smug as she sat atop the pretty chestnut mare.
"Thank you." Merope tried to look forward, out across the hills, but in truth, she was very afraid that the pony would whip around and run back into the barn again – and she would be helpless to do anything about it. "Shall – shall we go on?" she said, in Mr. Brookford's direction.
But the groom kept hold of Blackbird's bridle. "Have you a leadline, sir? I think this rascal may go better with one today. I will fetch it, if need be."
Mr. Brookford just nodded, grinning rather smugly. "Thank you, Levi. I have a leadline. Here – if you would just re-attach it for me – "
"Certainly, sir." In one quick motion, Levi threaded the long strap through the bridle bit and handed both ends up to Mr. Brookford. "I'll have a little talk with this one when he comes back." Merope saw the man wink at Mr. Brookford, who just grinned back at him as though sharing a hilarious private joke.
"Indeed. Thank you, Levi. Miss Robbins, are you ready to go?"
In truth, she was frightened half to death and convinced that at any moment, she would take a crashing fall or be run into some solid object by the runaway pony. Though her hands were shaking, where she gripped the thick mane, she only smiled sweetly at Mr. Brookford. "Of course. Kindly lead on, Mr. Brookford."
His expression was that of a gentleman who was somewhat impressed by what he saw, but Merope only looked up ahead of her and continued to hold tight as the pony started off again at his quick little walk. She was glad that the leadline was in place once more, and was able to relax, ever so slightly, as they started off again.
But then she saw that they were not heading out towards the pastures. Instead, they seemed to be going to the far side of the stables. "Are we not going out to view the cattle, Mr. Brookford?" she called up to him, as though greatly disappointed.
"We can still go if you like, Miss Robbins," he answered. "But over here, there are a few walled paddocks where the horses are sometimes turned out. The smallest paddock is empty right now."
"I see," Merope answered, although in truth, she didn't. But James led the small group inside the high stone walls of the paddock – which was not too large at all, she saw – and then he stepped down from Vireo and closed the wooden gate.
"I thought you both might like to try riding in here for a short time and gain some practice," he said, once again slipping the leadline from the bridle. "Levi is right – many horses are too fond of the stables. Ponies, especially, can be quite mischievous in that regard. Try him here and see if he goes better for you, Miss Robbins."
Sally was already riding the mare in a circle around the edge of the paddock. She was doing an admirable job, sitting with perfect posture as she maneuvered the mare to walk in circles around the paddock.
"All right," Merope said faintly, although her legs were growing numb and her back ached from both the unaccustomed way of sitting and the strain of trying to stay in the saddle at all. She had to prove that she was, at the very least, able to make the pony walk in a circle. "I suppose I just pull the rein in the direction I wish – "
She forced her fingers to let go of Blackbird's mane, and with some difficulty, got the rein separated from the mountain of hair. Carefully, she tried pulling his head around with one hand, and was rewarded by having the pony take one step towards the stone wall.
"Just so!" said Mr. Brookford. "Here – I will show you a little more." For the next several minutes, Mr. Brookford explained the proper way to start and stop the pony, and how to both turn him and keep him from going too fast at the same time.
Again, Merope could only think that her mother was right. She had never felt so awkward and helpless in her life. It was even worse because Sally was able to do it with apparent ease. Eventually, she did get Blackbird to walk along the stone wall and even make
a circle or two, and James seemed very pleased when she finally halted the pony in front of him.
"Quite good. Quite good. With that, Miss Robbins, I should suggest that you step down from him right here. Now that he is behaving nicely, that will be a reward for him and will encourage him to do the same next time."
It's not half as much a reward for him as it is for me! Carefully, she took her left foot out of the stirrup, and then worked her right knee up over the horn until she was sitting sideways. Then, it was just a very short drop back to earth. Merope had never been so grateful to simply stand on her own two feet.
"Thank you," she said, keeping her voice very cool, so that it did not shake. "I enjoyed that very much." She caught his look of surprise and pretended to smooth the pony's mane, so that James would not see her own smug expression.
"I – I am glad to hear it," he said. "I am sorry that Blackbird rather misbehaved. I will teach you how to remedy things like that, too."
