Finding Black Beauty

by Lou Kuenzler

  “The master was different though,” I heard Thomas say. “He knew every lad on this estate.”

  For a moment I felt a pang of real shame. Then I shook my head. This was ridiculous. What did it matter if I knew the boy’s name or not? How was I supposed to keep track of every servant we ever employed?

  “Are you going to gossip in there all day?” I called. “Because I should like to ride some time today.”

  There was a shocked silence in the stable. Then Billy emerged, his cheeks as red as mine.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he mumbled, as he led Merrylegs to the mounting block. “Only we didn’t know you were here.”

  “Clearly,” I snapped. Embarrassment and fury were wrestling inside me. Fury won. “I’ve never waited so long for a ride in all my life.”

  I wish now that I had smiled at him instead. I wish I had said: “Thank you, Billy. There’s no real hurry at all.” But I did not.

  I turned my back on him and Thomas helped me mount.

  “Comfortable, Miss Josephine?” he asked as soon as I was seated sidesaddle.

  “Yes, thank you.” Merrylegs was fidgeting, dancing from foot to foot and throwing his little head in the air. He was too small to be exercised by anyone but me and hadn’t been ridden since Father died.

  “I’ll go past the dairy, over the winter pasture and up along the side of Sewell’s Farm,” I told Thomas. Father and I had always had a pact that I could ride alone so long as I told Thomas where I was going, and it felt good to honour that now he was gone.

  “Right you are, Miss Josephine.” He laughed as Merrylegs tossed his head. “He’s keen to be off,” he said. “Make the most of it, Miss Josephine. Enjoy the little fellow, while you still can.”

  That seemed an odd thing to say, but before I could question Thomas, Merrylegs had bounded forward like a hare in a meadow, and we were off.

  The minute Merrylegs and I were past the dairy and out of sight of the stable yard, I wriggled in the sidesaddle and threw one leg over his back so that I was riding astride.

  “That’s better!” I cried, digging both heels in as he galloped flat out across the short-cropped pasture. His long grey mane whipped me in the face, blown up by the chilly wind. It was the first day of March, and still cold; but while I had been shut away indoors, spring had come. The hedgerows were full of buds and furled green leaves. Primroses speckled the grass.

  “Beautiful!” I smiled, leaning low over Merrylegs’s strong arched neck as they flashed past beneath me.

  As we reached the edge of Sewell’s Farm, I slowed to a trot but I didn’t swing my leg back over to sidesaddle again. I could see the farmer leaning on his gate and rode over to say hello. We often saw each other on my rides and he was the only one who knew I secretly rode like a boy.

  “Well, well, well. If it’s not young Master Joseph from the big house.” He chuckled. We shared the same joke every time.

  “Greetings, Farmer Sewell.” I stuck my elbows out and scratched my chin like I thought a boy might do.

  “Strapping lad like you,” teased the farmer, “I’m surprised you haven’t run away to sea.”

  “Off tomorrow,” I answered, looking back over my shoulder as Merrylegs and I dropped down on to the lane. “Off to join a pirate ship. Aye aye.”

  “Best of luck to you, laddie,” called the farmer and we both laughed just like we always did.

  By the time I trotted back to the stable yard, I was seated sidesaddle again, the picture of a fine young lady out for a gentle hack.

  Good thing too; I was shocked to see Aunt Lavinia and The Slug outside.

  Old Thomas was beside them, and Aunt Lavinia was pointing at the stable clock.

  “That will have to go too,” she said, scribbling in her little gold book. “The whole thing will have to come down.”

  “What are you talking about?” I cried, pulling on Merrylegs’s reins as he stretched his head to sniff her hat. “You can’t take down the stable clock.”

  “Why not?” Aunt Lavinia looked over at me with a nasty sour little grin as if she had sucked a lime. “We’ll have no need for a stable clock if we have no stables.”

  “No stables?” I gasped.

  “We’re pulling them down,” said Aunt Lavinia.

  “And building a glass house for my plants,” snuffled Eustace, shielding his eyes from the pale spring sun.

  “Your plants?” I said. “Your cress seeds?” Surely egg shells didn’t need a whole glass house of their own?

  “There’ll be ferns as well. And succulents.” Eustace rubbed his hands. “All the fine estates have glass houses.”

  “But … where will the horses live?” I asked. A tight pain was building in my chest. “Can’t you keep the stables here and build your glass house by the lake?”

  “Certainly not! Eustace cannot be expected to trail across the gardens just to look at plants. This is much the best site, right here beside the house. He’ll barely need to go outside at all.” Aunt Lavinia’s smile was now as broad as the Cheshire Cat in my Alice in Wonderland book. “We’ll have no need for stables. Not since all the horses are to be sold.”

  “Sold?” I almost choked on the word.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw old Thomas stretch out his hand and steady himself against the stable wall.

  “Yes. All of them,” said Aunt Lavinia sharply. “We’ll keep the matching bays to pull the carriage, of course… And that’s it.”

  Chapter Four

  The stables emptied day by day. I couldn’t bear to watch the horses leave. But at least Merrylegs could stay, surely.

  He was small enough to live in the old sheep barn in the meadow. He wouldn’t even need a stable. There was no reason for Aunt Lavinia to get rid of him.

  The very first horse to be sold was Magnum, the young hunter Father had been riding the day he died. Payment was sent by a breeder in Southampton and Billy was to ride him to the coast.

  “I’ll not be back,” he told Nanny Clay, handing her a bundle of outgrown clothes to pass on to the poor children of the parish. “Reckon I’ll head to the docks. See if there’s a ship in need of a handy lad like me.”

  So he’s the one who gets to run away to sea like a pirate, I thought. He’ll watch the sun set over Rio de Janeiro, while I rot indoors doing needlepoint with Aunt Lavinia and The Slug. Her latest idea was that I should practise embroidery by sewing Eustace’s initials on a set of table napkins.

  “It is only fitting the new master of Summer’s Place should have fresh linens.” She smiled as I pricked my finger on the needle for the hundredth time.

  As yet more horses were sold, I began to worry about Merrylegs.

  “Aunt Lavinia?” I ventured one morning at breakfast. “Shall I instruct Thomas to put a hay rack in the old sheep barn? It will make a fine, dry shelter for Merrylegs once the stables are knocked down.”

  “Merry-who?” Aunt Lavinia blinked.

  “Her fat pony.” Eustace dipped a soldier of bread into his runny egg.

  “Merrylegs isn’t fat, he’s just well-padded,” I cried. “He has Welsh pony in him. He is a hardy breed.”

  “Then I am sure he will make the children at Birtwick a steady ride,” said Aunt Lavinia, clicking her fingers for the footman to pull back her chair.

  “But – but you can’t sell Merrylegs!” I jumped up so quick my own chair toppled backwards. “He’s mine. Father promised he could stay at Summer’s Place for the rest of his life.”

  “Your father is no longer with us and I thought I made it quite clear there would be no more horses,” Aunt Lavinia said.

  “Merrylegs isn’t a horse. He’s a pony.” My throat was so tight I could barely speak. “I never thought you meant to get rid of him as well.” My hands were shaking so hard I knocked over my coffee cup.

  “Honestly, Josephine. There is no need to create such a scene – all for a silly pony.” Aunt Lavinia fluttered her grey silk fan.

  I saw Eustace smirk as he sliced t
he top off his second boiled egg. That did it. I lunged forward, grabbed it from his eggcup and hurled it hard at Aunt Lavinia.

  “Ouch!” She gasped as it hit her on the nose.

  “Now you’ve done it,” snorted Eustace, staring in horror as bright yellow yolk ran down Aunt Lavinia’s chin.

  But I wasn’t finished. Before he could say another word, I grabbed the jug of milk and upturned it over Eustace’s head for good measure.

  “Serves you both right,” I cried, running for the door. “You have ruined Summer’s Place.”

  “Get out! Vile brat,” ordered Aunt Lavinia. “I forbid you to leave the nursery until church tomorrow morning.”

  “Good! I’ll stay up there for ever. I don’t care if I never see you again.” I stormed out, leaving my aunt and cousin mopping their faces with their table napkins – the ones which still proudly bore my father’s crest in green and gold.

  I paced up and down the schoolroom, still trembling with rage.

  “Pride! That’s your problem,” said Nanny Clay, wagging her finger.

  “Oh please, don’t scold me. Not today.” I couldn’t bear for her to be cross. I stared out of the window, watching a shower of rain patter against the glass. “I can’t believe she’s selling Merrylegs,” I choked.

  Nanny Clay raised herself up from her chair. I heard her stiff black mourning dress rustle like the feathers of a fighting cockerel.

  Now I’m in for a lecture, I thought, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. But instead of scolding me, Nanny Clay laid her hand gently on my back.

  “I know you love that old pony. I’m fond of the little fellow myself.” She sighed. “But he’s a thing of childhood. You’ll have to leave all that behind you, Josie, soon enough.”

  “It’s gone already,” I said, tracing the pathway of a raindrop as it slid down the window.

  It was true; it seemed to me that I had stopped being a little girl the day that Father died. Now I was stuck somewhere between being a child and a grown-up. Too young to make my own decisions, too old to hide away up here in the nursery.

  “Come, Josie!” Before I could protest, Nanny Clay swept me up in a tight hug. “Things aren’t so bleak as they seem. But you must watch your temper – especially when I’m gone.”

  “Gone?” I lifted my head and looked up into her old wrinkled face. “You … you’re not leaving, are you?” I stammered.

  “I’m afraid so, pet.” Her face was worried. “Her Ladyship downstairs gave me my marching orders the very first day she came.”

  “But … Father promised you could stay at Summer’s Place as long as you wanted to,” I cried. “He said we’d look after you one day, like you’d looked after us. Aunt Lavinia can’t send you away. She can’t!” First Merrylegs and now my dear old nanny. I thought my heart would break.

  “Nothing was written down. It was a word of honour and there isn’t a pinch of goodness left in this house. Not now.” Nanny Clay nodded towards the door. “But don’t you worry about me. My nephew lives in a pretty little village called Fairstowe. I’m sure he’ll put up with me, provided I don’t get under his feet.”

  “But … when do you go?”

  “Tomorrow. After church.” Nanny Clay stroked my hair.

  Normally I would have pulled away, but today I clung to her, letting her hug me as we watched the rain against the window.

  “A boiled egg and a jug of milk.” She chuckled, straightening up at last. “Right over their heads? Now there’s a thing I’d like to have seen.”

  And we both began to laugh.

  I kept that memory with me the next day, as she turned and waved one last time at the churchyard gate.

  She touched the silver locket around her neck. It contained one lock of Father’s hair and one of mine. Then she limped away, never looking back as she climbed into Farmer Sewell’s dog cart, carrying all she’d ever owned in one small leather bag.

  Chapter Five

  Merrylegs snorted as my footsteps echoed on the stony stable floor. Every stall was empty now, except his.

  So much had changed so quickly. Poor Nanny Clay was gone. So had all the horses, other than the pair to pull the carriage who were stabled in the coach house.

  And first thing tomorrow morning Merrylegs would be gone too. “The coachman from Birtwick is coming to take you away along with a load of hay.” I sniffed, laying my head against his dappled flank. “But you’re not to worry.” I straightened up and made my voice sound as clear and strong as I could. I am not daft enough to think that horses understand every word we say, but I do believe they know when we are scared or calm, happy or sad. I didn’t want Merrylegs to leave knowing how desperate and hollow I felt inside.

  “Birtwick Park will be a lovely home,” I said brightly, “I heard old Thomas telling Billy all about it. It is a nice estate on the other side of the Beacon Hills. Squire Gordon keeps a fine stable,” I explained, echoing Thomas’s words before I added an extra reassurance of my own. “I am sure the children will be kind and gentle, and excellent riders who won’t pull your mouth or jab you in the sides. You’ll be spoiled rotten with apples and bran mash and hay…”

  Merrylegs turned and nuzzled me, looking for a treat already.

  I held out the lump of sugar I’d slipped inside my handkerchief at breakfast yesterday. Before I threw the egg at Aunt Lavinia’s head. Before I knew this would be Merrylegs’s last day.

  “Greedy boy!” I scratched him between the ears. “Think what a fine adventure for you this will be…”

  He nuzzled me again and I held back my tears … right until the last moment when I kissed his soft grey nose and said goodbye.

  As I hurried away through the empty stables, Merrylegs scraped his hooves on the floor and whinnied for me to come back.

  “I’m sorry, boy,” I whispered. I did not want to let him see me crying. But it broke my heart to leave my little pony alone for the very last time.

  It was dark outside. When I had dried my eyes, I crept into the house as quietly as a stable mouse.

  But Aunt Lavinia was waiting.

  “In here, Josephine,” she called from the drawing room. “A word.”

  “Yes, Aunt,” I said, digging my nails into my palm and trying to remember my promise to Nanny Clay. I would hold my temper. But I would not apologize. Never.

  “After your horrid little tantrum, I have been reviewing your position here,” said Aunt Lavinia. The sour-lime smile was back. “Your outburst yesterday morning was most troubling. Dear Eustace is so very sensitive. He cannot be exposed to such…”

  “Violence,” said Eustace.

  “Exactly. In light of the unfortunate events at the breakfast table, I have written a letter.” Aunt Lavinia waved a sheet of lilac notepaper. “I have asked Lady Hexham to take you on as her companion.”

  “Lady Hexham?”

  “Please don’t repeat what I say like a parrot.” Aunt Lavinia sighed. “Honestly, Josephine, I shall have to ask Cook to find a piece of cuttlefish for you to chew on.”

  Eustace seemed to think this was hilarious. I ignored him.

  “Who is Lady Hexham? I don’t know anybody of that name,” I said. “Why would she want me to be her companion?”

  “Of course you don’t know Lady Hexham!” Eustace snorted as if I had said something terrifically funny. “Nobody knows Lady Hexham. She is very old and never goes outside.”

  “She is a recluse,” explained Aunt Lavinia. “She lives all alone in a big house. Nobody ever goes in and she never comes out.”

  It sounded terrible.

  “That is why she needs a companion.” Eustace snipped little his scissors in the air. “She gets bored all alone. It will be your job to amuse her.”

  “But I know nothing of old ladies,” I protested. Surely this was some sort of joke. I couldn’t be sent away to look after a dusty old lady all by myself.

  “It seems you know very little of anything.” Aunt Lavinia sighed, pointing to the crumpled pile of tabl
e napkins I had been asked to embroider. “No needlepoint, no music, no singing. Nothing but horses and hay!”

  “Does Lady Hexham have horses?” I asked, hopefully. “I would gladly ride with her, or…”

  “Horses?” Aunt Lavinia and Eustace were laughing.

  “What use would a housebound old lady have for horses?” snorted Aunt Lavinia. “The stables were closed up years ago. Honestly, Josephine. I knew you were wilful and spoiled. Now I see you are stupid as well. It is a good job you will be going away from this place. Consider it an opportunity for self-improvement. You can spend less time in a stable and more time perfecting the accomplishments of a young lady.”

  “B-but how long will it be for? Can I come home sometimes?” It wasn’t Aunt Lavinia and Eustace who I would miss, of course. But I couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from Summer’s Place. Especially not now spring was here – the hedgerows would be full of wild flowers and blossom. The orchard and the churchyard too. The churchyard where Father lay. Who would visit his grave if I was gone?

  “Hexham Hall is many miles away,” said Aunt Lavinia. “You cannot expect to return here willy-nilly.”

  “Then when?” I asked.

  “Not until the old lady dies,” said Eustace with a horrid grin.

  I felt a treacherous tear sting the corner of my eye but I would not let it fall.

  “You must make yourself useful since your father left you so ill-provided for,” said Aunt Lavinia. “Eustace is master now. You cannot expect to stay here and beg for charity. We might be family but we are not fools.”

  “Indeed,” Eustace snorted. Their faces blurred. I had a horrid dizzy feeling. I have never fainted in my whole life. But the drawing room seemed to rock and sway like a pirate ship on the sea. I clutched the back of a chair. Everything I had ever known had been taken from me. First Father. Then Nanny Clay. Next Merrylegs. And now Summer’s Place itself.

  Somehow I managed to turn the door handle, escape into the hall, and flee.

  Chapter Six

  The nursery without Nanny Clay was as bleak as the empty stables.