by Ella Edon
Merope only shrugged. "The pony was only being honest, by letting it be known that he wanted to return home. We cannot hold that against him, now can we?"
He grinned, and almost sounded as though he was laughing. "I suppose not. I must say, Miss Robbins, that you are quite a serene young woman to take all of this in stride. Any other woman I know would have been quite panicked and complaining very loudly."
"Not at all," she said, glancing up at him. "Shall I lead Blackbird to the barn, or will you?"
"I should suggest that you lead him," he said softly. "It is all part of horsemanship. Come, Miss Henson. Are you all right to stay up on Lady’s back? We will have you ride her back."
“Of course, Mr. Brookford,” Sally said serenely. When Merope glanced at her, she had a sour look on her face. She had heard all that Mr. Brookford had said, praising Merope.
Merope gestured for James to go ahead, and while his back was turned, she forced her very stiff, sore legs to move again. James opened the gate and led Vireo out, and then waited for both young women and their horses to pass. Soon, they were all back in front of the barn again.
Merope wanted nothing more, but to collapse from relief, when Levi came and took Blackbird from her and then disappeared with him into a stall. She was quite ready to walk all the way back to Birdwell, if it meant never going near a horse ever again.
But Mr. Brookford still stood beside Vireo just outside the barn. And Sally was still atop the mare. "Miss Robbins. Would you be so kind as to hold him for me?” Mr. Brookford asked. “I shall be right back." Before she could say a word, he had pressed the very tall horse's reins into her hand and walked inside the barn, calling for Levi.
Merope was dismayed to see that she had to look far above her own head to look the horse in the eye. At least Blackbird had been very much down at her level. She could not decide which view she liked the least.
Sally was smiling. “Mr. Brookford was so kind as to call me a natural,” she said. “I must admit, Lady is a superior horse. It is as much to her credit, as to my own.”
Merope didn’t reply. She was exhausted, and didn’t have the energy to riposte. Vireo did stand quietly for her, though, and he simply watched as his master walked inside the barn and spoke with Levi again. They disappeared into a storage room for a few minutes, and then Mr. Brookford re-emerged once again.
"It looks as though Vireo is being a perfect gentleman," he said, walking up to take the reins from her. "I'll take him back inside. Levi is going to give him a change of outfit and then we'll be on our way home."
Merope simply nodded and stood watching as the horse walked with him into the barn. With a sigh, she turned away and gazed out over the hills and pastures of Worthington, wishing that she was once again simply enjoying a picnic out on those hills with nothing more pressing to concern her than what to have for dessert.
Right now, she simply hoped she would be able to walk tomorrow on her very sore legs.
At least, the pony ride was over. No doubt "change of outfit" meant that Vireo was being harnessed to a vehicle and she would be able to ride back to Birdwell in comfort.
There were hoofbeats behind her on the gravel of the yard. She turned, expecting to see the gig once more or possibly even a governess car – but there was only Mr. Brookford leading the saddled Vireo again, as before.
"Well, Mr. Brookford. I see that you and Miss Henson are riding back to town. I suppose I will not object to simply walking – it may do me good after the unaccustomed ride, and my new boots fit me well." At that point, she truly meant it. Anything to simply get this excursion over with.
"You need not walk, Miss Robbins. Levi has outfitted Vireo so that he can carry us both."
"Both?" She truly did not understand.
"Here. Have a look."
Merope walked alongside the horse and took a look. What looked like a wide, flat black cushion had been fastened to the back of the saddle and now rested on Vireo's rump. "What's this?"
And then she realized what it was. "It's not – you cannot be serious!"
"Quite serious. I am sure you will be very comfortable and can simply relax on our journey back to your home."
"You intend for me to – to sit behind you on that cushion?"
"Pillion. It's called a pillion. It's how ladies have ridden with gentlemen for centuries and is perfectly respectable. This one, in fact, belongs to the dowager countess. Levi assures me that she will not mind if we use it."
"Pillion," she said faintly. Then she closed her eyes. "I would just like to go home. If this is what I must do to get there, then I will do it. But – I do not see how I can get up there so high on the horse. He is far too tall."
"Vireo is quite tall. But there is always a way. Come with me."
He led the horse over to the house. "Walk up there on the front portico."
She did so, climbing up the steps and noting that the portico was raised quite high. James swung up on the horse and then moved him to stand alongside the portico, just as Blackbird had stood alongside the boardwalk in front of the inn.
"Now, then," said James. "Just as before – you see, you are standing at just the right height. Simply turn and sit down on the cushion."
After only a brief hesitation, Merope turned and started to sit down – but she did not know what to do with her hands. She would be sitting right up against James once she was on the cushion. Trying once more, she only hesitated again.
"Miss Robbins," he said. "You may take the gentleman's shoulder in order to steady yourself while you sit down. It is perfectly acceptable."
"I see." Very gingerly, she placed one hand on his shoulder and then managed to seat herself on the thick black cushion right behind him. She did not look over at Sally, who she could sense was fuming.
"Good! Now, as we ride, you may hold on to my waist, so that you feel secure."
"What?" But he had already turned the horse and started him walking down the lane towards Birdwell.
Chapter Twelve
Instantly, Merope threw her arms around Mr. Brookford's waist. Sitting behind him on the very tall horse was quite different from riding the very small pony, for Vireo took long, swinging strides that tended to rock her back and forth. And as she looked down at her two feet, both hanging down on the same side of the horse, she could see that the ground was very, very far down.
She closed her eyes and pressed the side of her face against Mr. Brookford's back, holding on to him as tightly as she could. Sally was dead silent as she rode beside them.
Again, Merope breathed in the warm scent of him, through his wool riding coat and from the smooth skin of his neck. It was almost enough – almost – to make her forget where she was. But she did not dare to let go or sit back, for every step the horse took reminded her of how very precarious her position was.
Yet, as long as she held tight to him, she could feel the strength in his body as he stayed strongly upright, no matter what she did to inadvertently pull him off balance. Merope began to realize that as the horse walked along, she and Mr. Brookford both were carried along in exactly the same rhythm of forward-and-back, forward-and-back, forward-and-back . . . their bodies moved together while they remained pressed up against each other and the horse moved in a regular beat beneath the two of them. "Miss Robbins," Mr. Brookford said.
She opened one eye. “Yes?”
"You are welcome to hold on, but please do allow me to breathe a bit as we go."
Embarrassed, she started to let go – but then felt quite unstable and held on to him again, though trying to be conscious of easing up as much as she could. If she were forced to be honest with herself, she would admit that she did not want to let go . . . on some level, she did not want the rhythm of this ride to ever end.
It was a little tricky going down the switchbacks of the wide lane leading down to the road, for Mr. Brookford had to lean back and that forced her back, as well. But Merope never let go, and finally, she began to feel slightly more comfortable.
She wondered how it was that she had never experienced a sensation like this, of being pressed up against a gentleman while holding him tight. Mr. Brookford was quite warm in the summer afternoon and smelled of sunshine and newly cut hay.
Trying to stay atop a tiny skittering pony was one thing. Being able to sit behind Mr. Brookford with both arms around his waist as they rode together on a long-striding horse was rather an improvement. She told herself that if "riding pillion" was appropriate for the Dowager Countess of Worthington, then it was certainly appropriate for an innkeeper's daughter from Birdwell.
When Merope stole a glance over at Sally, she was staring straight ahead, still riding tall in the saddle.
Soon, they were riding along the road that led into town. Merope saw a few of the townsfolk and some farmers, but she let Mr. Brookford wave to them while she kept her face down and maintained her snug hold on his waist.
"Are you quite comfortable, Miss Robbins?" he asked, at one point.
"Perfectly," she responded, though she was very grateful that he kept Vireo at a smooth walk. Merope did not want to say anything about it, for fear that he might send the horse into a trot, so she simply tried to sound as contented as possible.
“And how are you faring, Miss Henson?” he asked.
“Very well, thank you, Mr. Brookford,” Sally murmured.
"It is a lovely day today, isn't it?" Mr. Brookford asked the both of them.
How strange it was to hear his deep voice rumbling against her ear when he spoke, since she still had the side of her head pressed up against his back. It was another sensation which she never would have guessed was possible. "It is indeed, Mr. Brookford. Quite lovely."
To her surprise, Mr. Brookford did not say anything more. Instead, his response was to gently pat her hands at the front of his waist and then turn Vireo onto the main street of Birdwell.
For an instant, she started to pull her hands back, but then made herself stay where she was. Merope closed her eyes again as her head rested against his shoulders, rocking along with the horse's long swinging strides.
Finally, Vireo halted and stood very still. "Here we are, Miss Robbins. Allow me to help you down."
Quickly, Merope sat back and withdrew her hands, placing them gingerly on top of his shoulders, instead. He placed his hands on her waist, holding her tightly as she slid down.
But it was farther down than she thought. Her stiff and aching legs would not hold her. Merope dropped hard to the cobblestone street, staggered wildly, as she fell against Mr. Brookford. He held her tightly in his arms, but she bounced off of him, nearly falling to the ground.
"Miss Robbins!" Quickly, Mr. Brookford was helping her to her feet. "Are you hurt? I am so sorry!"
Very slowly, he helped her up, and somehow, she got to her feet. She tried to pull herself up tall and square her shoulders, even though she knew that several people were now standing in the street, and on the walkway. They had all watched Miss Robbins ride in, while sitting behind a gentleman on a horse and holding tight to his waist – and then promptly falling down onto the street.
When she glanced over at Sally, she was standing beside the mare. She was clearly trying not to laugh. Merope’s face was burning.
"I am fine. I thank you for the riding lesson, Mr. Brookford. Please convey my thanks to His Lordship and Her Ladyship, as well, for the use of their pony and the grounds of their beautiful estate."
Merope straightened her bonnet, took a deep breath, and turned to go back to the boardwalk and the doors of the inn. She didn’t know if Sally planned to stop in. But she wanted to escape everyone watching.
"Miss Robbins! Please, do wait – " Quickly, he led the horse to the boardwalk and caught Merope by the shoulder. "Please wait. I know you have had a difficult time of it today. But I do admire you for not giving up. You never showed fear or frustration – not once."
She forced herself to smile at him. "Of course, I was not frightened or frustrated. We promised to maintain honesty at all times, did we not? Again, I thank you for your efforts to help me learn to ride."
Merope stepped up to the walkway. She was certain he was only being polite, as she was. No matter what promise they might have made to each other about ever-present honesty, it was not possible that he was not embarrassed by her failure to ride even a small pony without a leadline, and by her inability to so much as dismount from a horse without falling onto the cobblestones.
She reached for the door. "My mother is waiting for me. Good day to you, Mr. Brookford. Good day, Sally."
He could not follow her, for he was still holding his horse. Instead, he rushed to make a statement before she could disappear inside. "Miss Robbins! I would like to invite you to Albany House, to meet my family. Both of you, Miss Henson, as well. I will let you know the date and time. Please say you will come!"
“I would be pleased to,” Sally gasped. “Thank you for the kind invitation, Mr. Brookford.”
Merope paused. That was about the last thing she had expected to hear. Slowly, she turned around to look at him. "I will come," she whispered, and then hurried inside before either of them could say anything more.
The following morning, Merope got out of bed, moaning only a little as she tried to make her legs stretch and work normally. The muscles were very tight and sore after spending so much time trying to grip the horn of the sidesaddle with her knees. Her back hurt as well, feeling wrenched and twisted.
To think that some people rode horses for fun. She did not see anything fun about it, especially for women, since they were required to use the instrument of torture known as a sidesaddle.
Moving slowly, she eventually succeeded in getting dressed and putting up her hair, and then made her way down the stairs and through the busy dining room. "Good morning, Mother," she murmured, as she walked into the kitchen.
"Oh, my," her mother said, frowning as she watched Merope hobble along. "Men have no idea what they put women through with those sidesaddles. Sit down, dear. I'll get you some tea. Or a little brandy, if you prefer."
For a moment, Merope considered her offer. She was ready to try almost anything to ease the pain of muscles, which were so tight and burning that they would hardly move – but then thought better of it. "I can manage. But thank you. The important thing is, the entire time I never asked for help and I did not give up. Mr. Brookford believes I had a wonderful time - and that I cannot wait to ride out again."
"When the truth is that you'd rather walk from here to London than ever sit a horse again."
"That's right." Merope smiled and reached for the teacup. "But he will be the last one ever to know." After a long sip of the hot sweet tea, she looked up again. "Oh, and by the way, I don't think I told you. I was so anxious yesterday to wash and rest, I may have forgotten -"
Mrs. Robbins had been walking towards the stove, but suddenly stopped mid-step. "You don't think you told me – what?"
"That Mr. Brookford has invited me to Albany to meet his family."
Her mother looked as though the sun had just come out after a month of rain. "To meet his family! Has he, now! That is good, Merope. Very, very good. When?"
"He did not say. He said he would inform me later. He invited Sally along as well, but I believe that the invitation was primarily for me."
"Hmm. Well, we shall see, but do not give him long to make good on that. If he really wants you there, you will not have to wait for a proper invitation that includes a date and time."
"I agree."
Mrs. Robbins walked the rest of the way to the stove and filled a plate with toasted bread, butter, a boiled egg, and a piece of sausage. "Once you finish eating," she said, setting the plate down in front of her daughter, "go and pick up the post. But be sure to come right back. An extra coach came through last night and we are quite busy."
"I noticed," Merope said, spreading the butter on the hot bread. "An extra coach? Is it a permanent addition?"
"It appears so. Our little town is becomin
g a destination in itself, as well as a waystation to other places."
"Well that works equally well for us, either way," said Merope. "We do not care why people need accommodations and meals. We only care that they do!"
"Indeed. So, we'd best take care of the ones we have, my dear, no matter how sore you are after your little jaunt. Besides, it seems to have paid off nicely for you. I shall wait with interest to see when you are going to Albany!"
As soon as she was finished eating, Merope gave her plate and teacup and silver to Hilda, and then hurried to the post office. It was right next door to the inn, just to the north, so there wasn't far to go.
"All the mail for the inn, please," Merope said to one of the Misses Swansea. She never could remember which of the sisters was which, for though they were of different ages, the three of them bore a strong resemblance to one another. "And any extra copies you have of the Caller. We have extra guests and they might like to read our weekly paper."
