by Lou Kuenzler
I was afraid the mistress would be displeased to ride with a pair of such sooty and dishevelled servants. But she smiled as she climbed shakily into the carriage. “You both look like the fine brave boys you are. Coming home with two horses and our stable lads is far more important than any coat,” she said.
Even so, James and I must have made a funny sight, siting up on top of the grand carriage.
“We look like a couple of chimney sweeps,” James said with a laugh.
I didn’t mind. At least we had brushed the horses a little. They seemed to know at once that we were heading home. None the worse for their night of adventure, they pricked their ears and trotted out along the lanes. James and I chatted like old friends again.
I thought how wonderful it would be to ride Ginger and Beauty across the common together. It would be autumn soon and we’d see the leaves in the highwood change from green to gold.
But, as we reached Birtwick village, the master banged his stick on the roof of the coach.
“Faster, please,” he begged. “We must get home. The mistress is not well.”
A week later, we heard that Birtwick Park was to be closed up.
“The family are going away,” explained Mr Manly. He had taken me and James aside in the stables to break the sad news; his face was grim. “They are going to Italy. The mistress must have warmer weather for her health and the winters in England are bad for her. They will stay abroad indefinitely.”
“But what about the horses?” I cried. “What about Merrylegs and Ginger?” My voice was shaking. “What about Beauty?” I was trying hard not to be selfish, but I couldn’t help it; I had to know what would happen to us all.
“Merrylegs is to go to vicarage; Miss Jessie and Miss Flora are going to stay there with their governess until their mother is strong again,” said Mr Manly. I could tell from his voice that he was sad too. “But all the other horses must be sold.”
“Sold?” I felt numb. “But where will Beauty go?” After all the adventures we had shared, I cared about him more than anything else in the whole world.
“He’ll go to whoever will pay a fair price for him,” said Mr Manly. “And we must all find new work too.” He glanced down the drive towards his cottage where his wife was standing by the garden gate, cradling their newborn son.
“It’s not fair!” I cried. “We can’t be sent away. We live here. This is our home.”
“Not without the squire,” said James. His face was pale and his mouth was set in a hard line. “Servants and horses cannot stay in a house without a mistress or a master. The squire will do his best for us but—”
“No!” I couldn’t listen to another word. I ran towards the stables. There had to be some way to stop this. I wasn’t a servant. Not really. I was the daughter of Sir Charles Green … or I was once. There had to be something I could do.
As Beauty saw me charging towards him, he lifted his head and whinnied over the loose-box door.
I flung my arms around his neck.
“Oh, Beauty,” I cried. “What are we going to do?”
Chapter Twenty-four
Miss Jessie and Miss Flora were the first to leave the big house. They moved into the vicarage with their governess. Although confused by all the upheaval, they seemed happy enough to stay with the vicar and his young family, at least until their mother was settled overseas.
I led Merrylegs up the road to join them the next day. “You be a good boy now, won’t you?” I said, kissing his nose as I let him into the little paddock beside the church.
“Don’t worry, Joe. I’ll look after him,” promised Flora, swinging on the gate.
“I know you will,” I said.
I wished I could tell her how Merrylegs had once been my pony and how jealous I had been when she first rode him. But I knew now that what made Merrylegs truly happy was having someone young to pet and ride him … and bring him plenty of apples, carrots and sugar lumps, of course.
“Goodbye, old friend,” I whispered in his soft ears, as Flora climbed down from the gate and began to rummage through her pockets looking for a treat. At least amidst all the uncertainty I knew Merrylegs was safe; the kindly vicar had promised he could live out his days in the paddock even if Jessie and Flora moved abroad to join their parents later.
Flora flung her arms around my waist.
“I wish you didn’t have to go away, Joe,” she whispered.
“Me too, Miss Flora,” I said. “Me too.”
If only we could all have stayed at Birtwick: Flora and Merrylegs. James and Ginger. Me and Beauty…
But it wasn’t to be. Our whole world was about to be torn apart.
The squire did all he could to find kind homes for the horses and jobs for the staff.
The twins were to work in the gardens of a big estate near to their mother.
“It is all very well, but I hoped we would be off to London for a real adventure, like Dick Whittington,” said Wilf with a sigh.
“I’m just glad we’ll be able to pop home for a slice of Mother’s apple pie on Sundays,” said Sid.
Caleb was to be apprenticed as a butcher’s boy in the village, something which seemed to fill him with joy.
“I can already skin a rabbit in seven seconds,” he beamed.
Daisy was to be housemaid for the doctor. And Doris had found a job in the White Lion hotel, where we had stayed on the night of the fire.
Mr Manly was to go all the way to Devonshire, where one of the squire’s oldest friends ran a stud.
“Mrs M is quite beside herself with excitement,” he chuckled. “Our new cottage has a view of the sea. And Squire Gordon has given us old Justice and the cart to keep for ourselves.”
Several of the other horses were going to the Devonshire stud too but the master there had no need for Ginger or Beauty. He had no need for any new stable lads either. So James and I had nowhere to go. Every day we hoped for news – that work might have been found for us – but every day there was nothing. James grew more and more worried.
“I don’t care where we go,” I whispered to Black Beauty. “We’ll live wild like gypsies on the road, just so long as we can be together.”
Finally, the morning arrived of the master and mistress’s departure, and James and I still had no idea of our fate.
We had harnessed Ginger and Beauty to the coach so we could take the master and mistress to the station. The squire came down the steps from the big house carrying Mrs Gordon in his arms. She had her eyes half closed and looked pale and worn.
James held the horses’ heads while I opened the carriage door.
“Ah. Little Joe,” the mistress murmured, lifting her head with an effort. “You were such a favourite with our Flora. And I have good news – I have found a place for you…”
The squire laid the mistress gently down on the cushions inside the carriage.
“Save your breath, my dear. Allow me to explain,” he said.
He gestured for me to follow him towards James and the horses.
“My poor wife was so very anxious to find you both a position,” he said. “As was I, of course. She has been writing notes for days, even though the doctor told her she must not vex herself. And then, last night, at last, an answer came. It is from Earlshall Park where the Earl of Westop lives. The countess is looking for a new pageboy to ride on her carriage and my wife told her how splendid you looked in your livery, Joe.”
“That is very kind, sir.” I tried my best to sound pleased. I was about to open my mouth and ask what would happen to Beauty when the squire carried on.
“Better still, Mr York, the coachman there, is looking for a new under-groom. It will be a promotion for you, James, but I have sent word that I cannot think of a better man for the job.”
“Thank you, sir.” James bowed his head, but he did not look as happy as I might have expected. Every stable lad dreamed of becoming a groom. Perhaps James was like me, and all he could think about was Ginger. He loved that difficult old mare alm
ost as much I loved Beauty, I think.
“Well, then,” the squire said, with a contented nod. “Let’s begin the journey, shall we?”
“Wait! If you please, sir,” I caught hold of his sleeve; James shot me an iron look, but I did not let go. “What is to happen to the horses?”
“These two?” Squire Gordon stroked Ginger and Beauty’s forelocks. “Did I not say? They are coming with you to live at Earlshall Park. You are to drive the carriage over there later today.”
“Oh thank you, sir!” I flung my arms around the squire’s neck, even though I heard James gasp with shock. “Thank you, mistress.” I dashed to the carriage, stuck my head through the open doorway and blew her a kiss.
“You are very welcome, Joe.” She smiled and tried to lift her head.
“Right. Well, yes. Best be off.” The squire looked so surprised that anyone would think I had thrown a bucket of water over his head.
“Joe!” James hissed at me. I paid no attention. I ducked under his arm, kissed Ginger’s nose and buried my head in Beauty’s mane.
“Everything is going to be all right now. We will be together,” I said.
I thought Beauty might be scared when we reached the railway station. The steam train was puffing and billowing like a dragon. I should have known better. Although Ginger fretted and squirmed, Beauty stood still as a statue, flicking his ears to show he was interested but not afraid.
“Brave boy!” I held the horses’ heads, while James – who was stronger and taller – helped the squire carry the mistress to the platform.
“Goodbye, boys. God bless you,” she called.
“Good luck,” said the master.
“Thank you! Goodbye,” James called out. But I could not speak. It was all too much; my joy and relief knowing I would be with Beauty after all, and my worry wondering if the poor mistress would ever see her little girls or return to England again.
I slipped behind the Beauty to hide my tears.
Then the guard whistled and the train rattled away.
James watched till it was out of sight, then rejoined me at the carriage.
“We will never see that poor lady again,” he said quietly. “Never.”
“She was our guardian angel,” I said. It was true. She would never know how grateful I was for her kindness, or that even at the very end she had always thought of others, and found a way for Beauty and I to stay together.
“Goodbye,” I whispered, although she was long gone. Then I climbed up beside James on the carriage as he turned the horses around, ready to head for Earlshall Park, our new home.
Chapter Twenty-five
As we trotted along the country roads, I was so pleased to be with Beauty that I wanted to sing. But I was afraid my high singing voice – so different from the gruff mumblings I used as Joe the groom – would give me away for sure. Instead I whistled a happy tune – it was something I had got very good at since pretending to be a boy. I glanced over at James, hoping he’d join in, but I saw he was biting his lip and looking as grey as the clouds that had gathered above our heads.
“Are you all right?” I asked. “Aren’t you pleased to have a new job? It’s a promotion. And with Ginger and Beauty too?”
“Of course I’m pleased.” James stared straight ahead.
“If you’re nervous about being an under-groom, don’t be,” I said. “Mr Manly always said you’d be a coachman before you were twenty and…”
“No. It’s not that. I know I can do a good job with the horses,” said James.
“Then what?”
“I’ve just heard things, that’s all.” James shrugged. “About the kind of stable they run at Earlshall Park. And the mistress. She likes things done very differently than we’re used to at Birtwick.”
“Well,” I said brightly. “Change can be a good thing.”
I should know, I thought as I began to whistle again. I’d had more changes than an actor on the stage in the last six months. And it has all turned out much better than I could ever have hoped. There was no reason to think this next adventure should be any different.
It was afternoon when we finally arrived at Earlshall. Ginger shied as we turned through a gate with big stone dogs snarling down at us.
“Steady,” said James, but she was still spooked and Beauty laid his ears flat.
A dim drizzle started as we trotted up the sweeping drive. It was the sort of thin, steady rain that washed all the colour out of the world and got right down inside the neck of my shirt. Even Beauty’s shiny black coat looked sooty and dull and Ginger’s bright chestnut fur seemed muddy-brown.
I hunched my shoulders and wiped the rain from my eyes as the buildings came into view. Earlshall Park was so huge it made Birtwick look like a dolls’ house. It was four times bigger than even Summer’s Place. But there was nothing pretty about it. It was grey and square like a fortress with big stone pillars at the front.
We were about to turn the carriage down the side of the house towards the stable block, when the huge front door was flung open by a footman wearing white stockings and scarlet breeches.
“Halt!” he cried. “Lady Westop wishes to examine the new horses.”
“Right you are.” James drew us to a halt and I jumped down from the top of the carriage to hold the horses’ heads.
The footman stood on the steps in the rain. He carried a rolled-up umbrella but it was clearly for the countess and soon his well-oiled black hair had begun to drip. James was dripping too, perched on top of the carriage. I could hide between Ginger and Beauty a little, but as the drizzle turned to rain, I was soon sopping wet as well.
I glanced at the stable clock. It was two o’clock in the afternoon.
Beauty and Ginger hung their heads and shivered. Still we waited.
Half past two. I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Excuse me!” I called across to the footman. “Do you think Lady Westop has changed her mind? Shall we take the horses to the stables and get them dry?”
“Shh!” James and the footman both hushed me at once.
“What?” I whispered at James. “It’s pointless us just standing here if she’s not coming.”
“She will come,” said the footman, staring straight ahead and not even blinking although rain was running down his face.
“When?” I groaned.
“When she is ready.” The footman sneezed.
The poor man was getting a chill. But I could tell it was hopeless. Nobody would dare to move until Lady Westop finally came out. Even if that was tomorrow morning…
I tried not to watch the hands on the clock.
Three… Quarter past three… The rain stopped but we were damp and chilly. It wasn’t summer any more and the late September wind was cold.
Ginger was jostling and fretting with her bit. Beauty had gone to sleep, I think. His head was resting on my shoulder.
At four o’clock it began to rain again.
Half past four. Two and a half hours we had been standing there. All of us – the footman, James and I, and the horses – were silent with exhaustion.
The door swung open.
There was a rustling sound of silk. A tall thin woman with a nose like a bird’s beak appeared on the top of the steps. Her dress was white and she was wearing a black ostrich feather hat. It made her look like a magpie.
“One for sorrow,” I whispered under my breath, remembering how Nanny Clay always touched her head if she saw one of the black-and-white birds on its own, saying it was a sign of bad luck.
The footman dashed forward, raising the umbrella even though it had stopped raining again now and there was even a little late afternoon sun.
“These are the horses?” Lady Westop was still standing on the steps. I had no idea if she was talking to me or the footman or James.
“Yes, my lady.” We all answered at once.
“There is no need to shout!” she snapped.
Still not leaving the steps, she lifted a little pair of eye-gl
asses on a gold chain around her neck and peered through them.
“But they do not match!”
Nobody answered her for a moment.
“I say, they do not match!” she repeated. “One horse is chestnut and one is black.”
James cleared his throat.
“They are both fifteen and a half hands high and very well suited to each other in the carriage,” he said. “They are forward-going with a lovely rhythm. Squire Gordon always said…”
“Enough!” cried Lady Magpie (as I had decided to call her). “I have no need to hear the views of a shabby country squire communicated to me by a stable boy who looks like a drowned rat.” She held up her hand. James shrivelled into silence.
“These horses are a different colour!” she said, as if the rest of us were blind. “It will not do.” Then she turned back into the house. The footman scuttled after her and the door closed behind them.
“That’s it?” I said, as James climbed down from the carriage. “We have waited for hours in the rain just to be told that Ginger is chestnut and Beauty is black?”
“What she means is that they are not fashionable,” explained James despondently. “All the really smart carriages are pulled by two bays or two chestnuts or two black horses – a perfect matching pair.”
“She barely even looked at them. She didn’t even say how beautiful they are!” I cried.
I patted both horses as we led the carriage round to the stable yard at last.
“Don’t you listen to that sour old magpie,” I whispered in Beauty’s ear. “You and Ginger are perfect.”
Earshall’s head groom stepped out of his office as we pulled into the stable yard.
“James Howard?” he said.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr York. And this is Joe Green,” said James. “We are very grateful to you for taking us both on. And these are the two new horses from Birtwick.”
“Fine beasts. Especially the black one.” Mr York looked inside Ginger and Beauty’s mouths. “What did Her Ladyship make of them?”
“She said they do not match,” reported James.
“Ah!” Mr York nodded. “She will not like them harnessed like this either. She will want them in bearing reins.”
