Golden Barrier

by Mira Stables

  GOLDEN BARRIER

  Mira Stables

  © Mira Stables 1981

  Mira Stables has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in 1981 by Robert Hale Limited.

  This edition published in 2017 by Endeavour Media Ltd.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter One

  “Some wretched brat who is coming to Miss Fotherby’s,” said Lady Emma Dorsey crossly. A mutinous pout spoiled the curve of her pretty little mouth, but at sixteen she no longer feared the nursery threat that such grimaces would have a lasting effect on her beauty. “Mama says we are both to stay at home and do the polite,” she went on, with a sly grin for her brother’s disgusted face.

  “What, me, too?” he demanded indignantly. And then, more thoughtfully, “How old is she?”

  “Oh—twelve or thirteen, I suppose,” returned his sister indifferently.

  Lord Thomas’s brief spurt of interest died. “No sport to be had there,” he growled sullenly. “Sixteen or seventeen, now, would be more like it.”

  Emma regarded him curiously. He was a well grown lad for his fifteen years, heavily built and full-fleshed. She wondered how much substance lay behind his frequent references to adventures in the petticoat line. He boasted a good deal, but she could see little in his disposition or his rather undistinguished countenance to appeal to a feminine fancy. As a brother he was something of a bully, with several unpleasant ways of taking his revenge if he suspected his sister of having tattled to those in authority about his doings. She hastened to appease him now, lest he should think that Mama’s behest was any of her doing.

  “It’s no bread and butter of mine,” she said firmly. “I’d never even heard of the chit until Mama called me into her dressing room. Katherine Martenhays. Some connection of Lady Julia Somersby’s; but by what I could make out, her Papa’s not quite the thing. Odiously wealthy, so he’s probably a Cit or a vulgar mushroom. The thing is that it’s our Papa who’s behind this show of gracious hospitality. I daresay he wants to borrow money off Mr. Martenhays or perhaps to sell him something. Which means there can be no getting out of it. It won’t do to put Papa all on end. But we needn’t really trouble ourselves over-much. We can show her the grounds and the maze and take her round the stables—that sort of thing. It’s only for one afternoon.”

  “And the last afternoon of the holidays,” grumbled her brother. “What’s more, I’d planned to go over to Nick’s. He’s got a new ferret and we were going to try it out. I’ve better things to do than to be dancing attendance on a nursery party. You’ll manage very well without me.”

  “Mama said both of us,” reminded his sister. “She’s bound to ask. If you want to wheedle a good tip out of her when you go off tomorrow, you’ll pay heed to her wishes.”

  Lord Thomas swore, with a fluency and force that denoted a long and close association with his father’s stable hands, and a total lack of consideration for feminine ears. His sister was unmoved.

  “She’ll be here about two o’clock,” she told him calmly.

  Lord Thomas had a bright idea. “Why don’t we all ride over to Nick’s?” he demanded. “We can put the wench up on old Dobbs. Even a schoolgirl could hardly fall off him. Not that I’d care if she did. But I’m damned if I see wasting the last bit of freedom between here and Christmas.”

  Emma hesitated. She was not in the least interested in ferrets or rabbiting, but she had a distinct tendre for handsome Nick Nevison, the innkeeper’s son.

  “She won’t be dressed for riding,” she temporised, “but perhaps I could lend her my old habit—the one that I’ve outgrown. I could smuggle that and my new one down to the stables and we can change in the harness room. You must keep guard for us. I wouldn’t mind doing that. I must say it would be deadly dull just strolling in the grounds all afternoon. But remember, not a word to Mama. She doesn’t approve of my being about the inn so much. I’ll volunteer to conduct our guest to the stables and say that I’ve arranged to meet you there.”

  The prospective guest was looking forward to the afternoon with sentiments that would have been appropriate in one who had been condemned to the torture chamber. Aunt Julia—who was actually a cousin of her Mama’s—had announced in her brisk, ‘no nonsense’ voice that it would be a good thing to get upon terms with Emma Dorsey before they met at school.

  “Not that she will come much in your way. She is one of the older girls, of course. I should think that this will be her last year. She will be able to tell you just how you should go on, but don’t let her, or that wild young brother of hers, lead you into mischief. She is a shocking harum-scarum. In fact her parents were obliged to send her to school because they could not keep a governess for more than a few weeks. Still, you can scarcely come to much harm in one afternoon, and I did not care to decline his lordship’s invitation when it was so kindly worded. He actually said that he had a great value for your Papa and that it was only right that their daughters should be friends. So no hiding yourself away in a corner. Join in whatever amusements are suggested, not putting yourself forward in any way but remembering that, on your mother’s side, you are just as well connected as Lady Emma. Don’t let her patronise you. She’s the kind of girl you have to stand up to.”

  Katherine was naturally of a retiring disposition. Common sense told her that any attempt by a twelve-year-old newcomer to ‘stand up to’ one of the older girls would be very ill-received, even if it occurred on neutral ground, and the two were respectively hostess and guest. Desperately she wished that Aunt Julia was to accompany her, but the Earl had said that he would send the carriage for the “young lady and her abigail.” At the time it had made her feel quite grown up to be going visiting on her own. It was only now that the full horror of her situation was borne in upon her. She would even be required to make conversation with the Countess, not, as usually happened, just to stand by Aunt Julia’s side occasionally murmuring, “Yes,” or “No,” or “Thank you, ma’am,” to such remarks as were addressed to her.

  She revolved meekly for Aunt Julia’s inspection. That lady approved the delicately embroidered ruffled lawn that Katherine was wearing, but sent her back to change her slippers; assured herself that she had her gloves and a clean handkerchief, and readjusted her sash. One of the maids came in, all excitement, to say that the carriage had arrived. Katherine quailed. She thought that her heart must have sunk right down into the pretty new slippers. She set her lips firmly to control their trembling, and climbed into the vehicle with all the enthusiasm of one bound for the stake.

  It could, she supposed afterwards, have been worse. At least the Earl himself was not present. The Countess and Lady Emma received her, and after one or two tepid commonplaces about her growth and her forthcoming debut into the new world of school, the elder lady nodded permission when her daughter suggested that she and Katherine should repair to the stables, where Thomas would show the visitor round. The Countess considered that she had done all that hospitality required of her.

  Katherine emerged into the open air with a sense of relief, and even contrived to utter one or two polite remarks about the beauty of the gardens through which they wended their way. She would have much preferred to remain on this comparatively safe and
familiar ground. She was nervous of horses. Until these last few months, when Papa had decided that it was time for her to take her place in a wider world, she had lived in Town with him, cared for by a series of housekeepers and governesses who had done their conscientious best to fill the place of the child’s long dead Mama. It had been a very quiet, secluded existence. Papa had kept carriage horses, of course, but it had never occurred to him to have his daughter taught to ride. The governesses tended to be middle-aged females of sedentary habit, grateful for the comfort of a well-sprung carriage when they wished to take the air, but not in the least addicted to equestrian exercise. If they had lived in the country, the subject of riding lessons for Katherine might have cropped up easily enough. In Town it simply did not arise.

  When she was handed over to Mama’s Cousin Julia to ‘be made into a lady’—Papa’s blunt phrase—her inadequacy in horsemanship had been discovered, but the matter was not one that could be remedied in a sennight. Lady Somersby was a brisk, sensible creature. She liked Katherine—though she wished the child showed more spirit—and she was sincerely grateful for the generous provision that John Martenhays had made for his daughter’s maintenance while she was being initiated into the ways of her mother’s world. It meant that Lady Somersby, a widow of straitened means, could once more afford one or two desirable luxuries. But to be setting up her own carriage or buying a pony for Katherine to ride would be foolish. The child would soon be going to school. She could take riding lessons there. Her Papa would willingly foot the bill for any extras that Lady Julia decreed were necessary for the education of a lady. Perhaps next summer a pony of her own might be considered. Lady Julia, accustomed to the exercise of rigid economy, thought of the expense of winter keep, and decided that next summer would be quite soon enough.

  So Katherine approached the stables in considerable apprehension, though this she did her best to conceal, since Lady Emma seemed to think that she was giving her a high treat. When, however, it was put to her that she should borrow Lady Emma’s outgrown habit and ride down to the village with the other two, she could not disguise her consternation.

  “But I couldn’t possibly,” she gasped. “I’m very sorry, but I can’t ride.”

  “Can’t ride? A great girl of twelve and can’t ride!” growled Lord Thomas in deep disgust. “Then what are we to do all afternoon. We were engaged to meet a friend in the village until your society was thrust upon us, and now you won’t even bear us company. The last afternoon of the holidays, and a wretched brat that can’t even ride to spoil all our fun.” He lapsed into a sullen silence until an idea for alternative amusement suddenly struck him. “I’ll tell you what,” he exclaimed, with a grin of anticipation, “you get into Emma’s habit and I’ll teach you to ride.”

  Sheer terror at such an appalling prospect sharpened Katherine’s wits. Somehow she kept her voice steady as she said, “Why don’t you go and visit your friends as you had planned? I would be quite happy strolling about the grounds by myself. I don’t wish to spoil your afternoon.” Instinct warned her not to betray the dread that filled her at his proposal. He was just the kind of boy who would take a delight in teasing and frightening her, under the pretence of teaching her to ride.

  But Emma shook her head. “That won’t fit,” she objected. “Mama might chance to see you and she would be sure to ask why you were alone.”

  “Then couldn’t I wait here, in the stables? I could hide in one of the empty stalls if I heard anyone coming,” pleaded Katherine. Anything would be better than the suggested riding lesson.

  The other two consulted wordlessly and presently nodded. They could see only one flaw in the plan. “And you won’t peach on us to Mama?” demanded Thomas.

  Katherine looked puzzled.

  “He means tell tales,” elaborated his sister. “You won’t tell her that we left you on your own. You’d better not. If you do, I’ll see you well paid for it when we get to school.”

  Katherine drew herself up. “I don’t know much about school,” she said steadily, “but I do know that one mustn’t tell tales. I promise.”

  The stable seemed very quiet after the other two had gone. Emma had actually persuaded her brother to bring in a low bench from the harness room, considerate for once in her pleasure at the prospect of the afternoon’s outing. It was not very clean, but it was better than nothing. Katherine seated herself carefully, gathering her dainty skirts so as to avoid sundry oil stains on the rough wood, and considered her position with a crooked little smile for the memory of Aunt Julia’s injunction to join in whatever activity was suggested, and not to be hiding herself in a corner. Some two hours of solitude lay ahead of her. The stable clock, obligingly chiming the quarters, marked the slow passage of time. There was nothing to do and nothing of interest to see, and the only prospect of activity lay in the need to conceal herself if she heard any one approaching. But at least there was nothing to alarm her. The stalls in this part of the stable were all empty, Emma and Thomas having taken the last two horses.

  Across the yard there were loose boxes, and through the dusty window she could occasionally see horses’ heads protruding from the half doors. But they were safely shut in. In any case, she told herself determinedly, she was not really afraid of horses. It was just that she was not used to them; and they were big and strong and a bit unpredictable. Even their head-tossing was startling when you were not expecting it. She got up and went to peer into the empty stalls. There was not much to see except the hay racks, scarcely visible in the gloom. It was not even a very nice stable, she thought. The smell was very strong, it was ill-lit, and there were a great many flies. She went back to her bench and gave herself up to rather miserable contemplation of her future. School loomed frighteningly on the horizon. She hoped that few of her schoolmates would resemble Lady Emma, and was humbly thankful that she had not alienated that intimidating young woman. It was all very well for Aunt Julia to bid her hold her own. Aunt Julia just didn’t understand.

  The stable clock struck three. She sighed. Another hour at least; and on the thought came the sound of approaching hoof-beats. Hurriedly, she concealed herself in the nearest stall. There was nothing to hide behind. She could only retreat to the farthest, darkest corner, hoping that the newcomer was bound for one of the loose boxes at the other side of the yard.

  He was not. She heard the hooves come nearer and nearer and stop. There was the murmur of a pleasant young masculine voice, as the rider dismounted and made much of his horse. It was certainly not Thomas’s voice. Next came the slow approach of the led horse in the stable entry. She held her breath, trying to estimate which stall he was making for.

  It was sheer chance that she had chosen to hide in the stall where Dermot Winfield usually stabled Nelly. As an unconsidered poor relation, and a mere stripling at that, the servants in that ill-run household paid him little heed. The grooms were only too willing to let him tend his own mare, even though they grudgingly admitted that the animal was a nice bit o’ blood. His comings and goings were not a signal for any unwonted display of activity in the stable, and he expected this one to be like all the rest, until Nelly took exception to the strange pale shape that crouched at the end of her stall, and stopped dead, her front feet braced against his onward impetus while she snorted her alarm and disapproval. His first thought was to soothe the mare, and only when she stopped shivering and sidling did he pay any heed to the intruder; to notice that she looked quite as distressed as Nelly.

  He was a kindly lad, and his own circumstances had bred in him a sympathy for the weak and oppressed. It did not greatly surprise him to find a claimant on his pity lurking in his cousins’ establishment. He knew his cousins.

  “I’m so very sorry,” he said pleasantly. “Did Nelly and I startle you? She will not hurt you, you know. She is the gentlest creature; follows my mother about like a pet dog. But of course Mama has known her ever since she was foaled, and helped nurse her when she was sick. Horses are just like babies. The more you h
ave to do for them the fonder you grow of them. Mama and Nelly love each other dearly. Being parted is a sad grief to them.”

  He talked on in this strain for a minute or two more, and his seventeen-year-old ability to chatter harmless commonplaces was becoming dangerously stretched before he saw a trace of colour return to the child’s cheeks, and her bearing begin to relax from its taut composure. At last he ventured to say, “I presume that you are here to visit my cousins. Will you not permit me to escort you up to the house? You cannot wish to be loitering here in this dusty place. See, you have soiled your pretty dress already.”

  The mishap to her dress did not seem to distress the child, but the suggestion that she should go up to the house was a different matter. She clasped her hands together in an agitated way and said that she had promised his cousins to await their return in the stable.

  “Then at least I can bear you company,” returned Dermot cheerfully. “But I must unsaddle Nelly first, and rub her down, or she will think herself neglected.”

  He proceeded to attend to the mare. Katherine watched curiously, her shyness forgotten as the animal turned obediently under the ministering hands. Presently she even ventured a remark of her own. “She is very fond of you, isn’t she?”

  Dermot laughed and pushed aside the soft muzzle that was questing hopefully for the titbits that Nelly considered were her due.

  “Cupboard love,” he grinned. “Would you like to give her an apple? I have one in my pocket, as well she knows.”

  Greatly daring, Katherine thought that she would, and was shown how to hold the slices flat on her palm. Nelly took them daintily like the lady she was, and Katherine was encouraged to stroke the gleaming neck and to answer quite frankly and unashamedly when Dermot enquired about her own riding prowess. He was pleased to approve the information that she was to start lessons soon, explaining that an early start was essential to the development of real competence, and stressing the necessity of establishing good relations with one’s mount by judicious fondling, and a good deal of soft-voice crooning talk. Katherine began to think that learning to ride might not, after all, be such a dreadful ordeal, and her questions came freely. Aunt Julia would have been surprised to see her timid little niece so much at ease with a strange young man. She did not even flinch when Nelly nudged her playfully, seeking more largesse, and only regretted that there was no more apple to give her.