RIGHT ROYAL REVENGE, A

by R B Marshall

  Trinity whistled when she saw me. “Don’t you look smart!” She handed the mare to me, then frowned and nipped into the lorry, appearing a moment later brandishing my gloves. “Don’t forget these!”

  With Ruth’s instructions ringing in my brain, I paraded the bay mare around the ring, trotting her when it was our turn, and trying not to get nervous when Lady Letham appeared outside the ring as a spectator, accompanied by the minister’s wife.

  There were only three mares in the class, so, very quickly, the judge made her decision, and I was delighted when Allegra was given a red rosette for first place!

  Lady Letham clapped so hard that I thought she’d need painkillers. “What a stupendous result, Isobel!” she said when we exited the ring. “You did such a marvellous job with her, she looks most wonderful. Clever girl,” she said, patting the mare.

  “Well done, boss.” Trinity appeared, leading Eagle. “He’s up next—let’s swap.”

  I took the stallion from her, and walked him round the warm up area until our class was called a couple of minutes later.

  There were more competitors in Eagle’s class, and the judge—a man, this time—seemed to prefer the smaller, lighter breeds, so he chose a Welsh for his winner, and Connemaras got the next two places, leaving Eagle with fourth.

  I was disappointed for him, because I thought he looked amazing. But that was one of the down sides of showing—it was all very subjective.

  With my first two classes out of the way, there was a gap until Eagle would compete as a ‘Ridden Horse’, a class he was much less suited to than ‘Native Pony’. But it would be good experience—for both of us.

  We decided to use the time to see how Darcy was getting on over at the show-jumping ring.

  “Oh, you poor darling.” Francine’s voice carried towards us on the breeze as we approached the warm-up area. “Is it really very sore?”

  Astride Darcy, Jason was clutching his jaw, a pained look on his face.

  Then Francine spotted us. “Izzy, darling, could you be a dear and warm Darcy up for us? Jason took some painkillers, but they haven’t kicked in yet, and he’s in such agony…”

  Trinity noticed my face blanch, and dug an elbow into my ribs. “Go on, Iz, just pop him over a couple of jumps. You did it no bother the other day, and these look easier.”

  I glanced over at the warm-up obstacles, which did, indeed, look smaller than what we’d done the other day. “Okay,” I said, chewing my lip, “I’ll give it a go.”

  We led Darcy over to the mounting block, where there was a melee of people to push through. Stepping into the stirrup, I felt Darcy flinch as I swung my leg over. “Are you okay?” I whispered to him as we walked off. Maybe his saddle was hurting. I put a hand on his neck to see if he would give me any hints, and instantly felt a searing pain in my ribs. “Ouch,” I said, involuntarily.

  “Boss?” Trinity asked from beside me, her face concerned.

  “Can you check Darcy’s ribs for me? I’m worried he’s sore.”

  Two seconds later, she exclaimed, “The weasels!” She shoved my leg back and pointed below Darcy’s saddle. “Look.” His girth—the cinch that ran under his belly to tie his saddle on—had been partially severed on one side. “A knife, by the look of it,” she said, “the edges are too sharp.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. “Is Darcy cut?”

  She prodded him with her fingers, then shook her head. “He’s fine. But there’s no way you can ride with this.”

  I was about to dismount, when I remembered my girl-guide over-preparedness. “I brought a spare girth for Eagle. It’s in the lorry. It should fit. Could you…?”

  “Wait there,” she said, and sprinted off.

  By the time she arrived back with the replacement girth, Jason was feeling better, and I was more than happy to let him take over the ride.

  “But who would do such a thing?” Francine’s fingers fluttered nervously over her pink lips, her eyes darting from side to side as if searching for the bogey man.

  “Probably an accident,” I said, “or maybe a manufacturing fault. Don’t worry about it, at least we caught it in time, and Jason is feeling better.”

  That seemed to mollify the merry widow, but I caught Trinity’s eye, and could see that she, like me, was sure it had been deliberate.

  Most likely, it was that pesky policewoman, Vicky Adamson, that tried to sabotage my ride the way she’d sabotaged my car. But, even from my vantage point atop the horse, there had been no sign of her.

  Whoever it was who’d cut the girth, we’d better be careful from now on…

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Discovery class was popular, and it took some time before everyone had jumped their first round. Those who’d gone clear—including Jason and Darcy—would then do a timed round over a shorter course.

  In the Jump Off, Jason managed to cut the corner at the spread and they leapt like gazelles over the final jump, just one second in the lead.

  “And it’s a clear round for Jason Cotton on Pride of Pemberley,” announced the tannoy as he trotted out of the ring.

  “Pride of Pemberley?” Trinity and I mouthed at each other disbelievingly.

  “What a mouthful,” she said, “I prefer Darcy.”

  Horses often had fancy ‘show names’ on their passports, but a shorter ‘stable name’ for everyday use. I could see the Jane Austen reference in his show name, so I actually thought it was quite clever.

  Before I could say as much, Trinity almost burst my eardrum by squealing, “Termie!” as a Barbour-coated man with curly brown hair and designer stubble joined us.

  He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Hi, gorgeous.”

  “This is my friend, Izzy,” she introduced us, but anything further she said was drowned out by the loudspeaker overhead, announcing the next horse.

  “Our final competitor in this exciting Newcomers class is Jumping Jack Flash, ridden by George Reid.”

  That name was familiar, but in the excitement of the competition, I couldn’t place it immediately. “Do you know him?” I asked the chiropractor.

  He lifted a well-muscled shoulder. “I think he’s a saddler.”

  “Oh yes! I remember now.” He was one of the Horseman’s Guild members in Hamish’s photo. I frowned. That surely meant the chiropractor would know him, since they were both in the guild.

  With my interest piqued, I watched intently as the surprisingly lithe older man guided the grey around the course. By the time he got to the penultimate jump, my heart was in my mouth, as his time—ticking away on a display in the corner—was nearly identical to Darcy’s.

  I held my breath as he landed over the final jump and tripped the timer beam—half a second slower than Darcy. “Yay!” I cheered. “Well done Darcy.”

  Overhead, the loudspeaker squealed with feedback, then crackled before the cultured voice of the commentator finally cut through the interference. “Final call for competitors in the Riding Horse class. All competitors for Riding Horse over to ring three, please.”

  I looked at my housemate, aghast. We’d been so caught up in watching the jumping, we hadn’t realised that it was time for Eagle’s class.

  Trinity made a shooing motion with her hand. “You go and tell them we’ll be right there. Termie and I will run to the lorry and bring him over to you. Go!”

  Without any further discussion, we all raced off.

  Five minutes later, Eagle and I were parading around the oval show ring, putting our best foot—or hoof—forward. My chest heaved from all the running, and my cheeks were burning, but I hoped the judge was far enough away not to notice.

  In front of me was a bay Thoroughbred with a long stride, and I tried not to let Eagle worry about keeping up with it. “Just do your own thing,” I murmured to him. “It’s about you, not them.”

  In fact, most of the rest of the horses in the class were a good deal taller and more refined than Eagle. It’s just for practice, I told myself. It didn’t
matter if we were last, as long as Eagle behaved, and I did the best job I could of showing him off. He’d be less out of place at the Highland Show, when he’d be in a class with other Highland Ponies, rather than all the fancy animals here today.

  Sure enough, after we’d all gone round the ring in walk, trot and canter, the judge ranked us in an approximate order, with me and Eagle at the end. That meant I had to wait for some time until the judge had ridden each of the other horses, before it was our turn.

  One of the others misbehaved, threatening to buck, and another wouldn’t canter properly for the judge. As long as Eagle didn’t disgrace himself, that meant we would probably move up two places, meaning we might at least get a sixth-place rosette, which would be a nice surprise.

  “A stallion?” the judge queried before she mounted, noticing the ribbon tied to Eagle’s tail.

  “Yes. But he’s very well behaved.”

  It seemed the judge agreed with me, because she had a big smile on her face when she dismounted, and gave Eagle a nice pat on his shoulder, before striding back to the centre of the ring for her final deliberations.

  Everyone else was already mounted, so I quickly clambered on and joined them walking around the ring again, waiting for the final places to be announced.

  As I expected, the naughty horses were seventh and eighth, but then a chestnut was called in sixth, and a grey was fifth. That left just four of us parading round. We must be fourth then, I thought, that’s really good. But the steward pointed at a black horse, and Eagle ended up third!

  When the judge presented our rosette, she patted Eagle again. “Lovely ride,” she said quietly, so the other competitors wouldn’t hear. “If he was more to type, he’d have been first.”

  I just about fell off in shock. “Uh, thank you,” I managed, before she went out of earshot.

  Once we exited the ring, I noticed that Trinity and Humphrey—I refused to think of him as Termie—had joined Lady Letham and Martha May. The ladies had a basket of goodies with them, meaning there was something of a picnic going on.

  It was only then that I realised how hungry I was, as we’d not eaten since breakfast. I stopped Eagle beside them so he could receive his congratulations, hoping I looked famished enough that someone would take pity on me. It would be rude to ask, I needed to wait till I was invited.

  “Them prawn parcels is truly delish,” Trinity said, stuffing another morsel into her mouth as she spoke.

  I widened my eyes at her, but she didn’t take the hint.

  “And cranberry and Camembert sarnies. They might be my new fave.” She waved one almost under my chin, and my nose followed it like a hunting dog follows a lure.

  Martha put me out of my misery. “Jump off that horse and come and get some food, Izzy. Is Eagle allowed a sandwich for being a clever boy?”

  “No, sorry, it’s not good for him, but he’ll be quite happy with some grass.” I loosened his girth, then lengthened the reins so he could graze beside us while I happily ate my fill.

  We’d untacked Eagle and brushed him off when we heard the announcer declare that the Newcomers class was about to start. “Do we have time to watch Darcy one last time before we go?” I said, checking my watch.

  Trinity shrugged. “It’s you what’s the whiz with numbers. I just need time for a shower before salsa.”

  I did some mental arithmetic. “I think we could spare twenty minutes.”

  The chiropractor shrugged. “Fine by me. I’m heading back after this.”

  Making sure Eagle and Allegra were safe and happy eating their hay, we made our way over to the jumping ring in time to see George Reid go clear.

  Two horses later, it was Jason’s turn—but it wasn’t to be another win for him. Unfortunately, Darcy clipped a plank with one of his hind feet, and it toppled to the ground. “Four faults for Pride of Pemberley,” sang the loudspeaker, just as Jason exited, his face like thunder.

  “We’ll be jumping nothing but uprights this week,” he spat, getting down from the saddle and throwing the reins at me as if I were his groom, before stalking off in Francine’s direction.

  I stared after him, my mouth agape. “Poor Darcy,” I murmured, rubbing the white star on his forehead, “you did your best.” The gelding leaned into me, as if taking comfort from my touch.

  “What a plonker,” Trinity declared.

  Beside her, The Terminator ran a hand through his curls. “What about his horse? I thought you were in a hurry to get home?”

  “We better take him over to their lorry,” I said, turning Darcy so he pointed towards the car park.

  “Or you drive our lorry back, and Termie and I will take Darcy, then he can drop me off at home?” suggested Trinity. “That might be quicker.”

  “Fine by me.” The chiropractor seemed to be a man of few words.

  “Okay, I’ll see you back there,” I said, handing Darcy over. “Thanks.”

  Trinity stepped out of the chiropractor’s black SUV, and waved at him as he disappeared down the drive.

  “Is he not staying to help? Or coming dancing?”

  “Got an urgent job.”

  His disappearing acts were beginning to get really suspicious. Despite the blank I’d drawn so far on finding a wife, maybe I’d need to dig a little deeper. “Did he at least tell you who the new Grand Master is?”

  She nodded. “Angus someone, he breeds Clydesdales. And the deputy is the husband of that pony club woman you met at the shop.”

  I made a face. “Neither of them are on our list of suspects, are they? I guess the guild is a dead end, then.”

  “Yeah.” She screwed up her nose, then surveyed the yard. I hadn’t got back much before they had, and had only managed to unload the horses and tie them up before she appeared. “Where shall we start?”

  It took us the remainder of the afternoon to finish off the horses and get everything ship-shape, so it was getting late by the time we piled through the door of our flat. I let Trinity use the shower before me—since our little apartment only had a shared bathroom—so she could be ready first and go off in her own car to open up the hall for her class.

  Then, once I was ready, I hurried into the village, and was about to turn into the car park when I remembered what had happened last time. Cancelling the indicator, I slowly carried on up the road, looking for somewhere less obvious to park. At the other end of The Brae, I spotted that there was a staff car park hidden behind the building. That might work, I thought, and pulled in.

  Walking past the pub on my way to the class, I called in and told Harry, the publican, what I’d done. “Good idea, love. It’s not a problem. Hopefully it’ll be safer there.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and then hurried away to the hall.

  As usual, I went to the back of the room. And, as usual, I was pretty rubbish at the dancing. In theory, I should be at least passable at it, since I was a horse-rider and had good balance. But, for some reason, I just didn’t seem to be able to coordinate all the bits I needed at the right times.

  I said as much to Dean when we were waiting to be served at the bar afterwards.

  “Are you musical at all?” he asked.

  With a grimace, I shook my head. “Tone deaf, sadly.”

  He gave me an appraising look. “That might be it, then. Dancing needs more rhythm than I’d imagine is necessary for riding.”

  “You might have a point there.” I checked around us in case anyone was listening, and then whispered. “Did you get anywhere with checking out the merry widow and the boy wonder?”

  Glancing from side to side, he muttered, “I’ll deny I ever told you this, if you say otherwise, but there isn’t any evidence pinning them to the crime. I think I’ll suggest to the high-ups that they get you to check out the victim’s financial dealings again. Maybe there’ll be a clue there.”

  Harry came over at that point to take my order. “Car okay, Miss Izzy?”

  “Hopefully. Can I get a lemonade, please?”

  “Coming r
ight up.” He swished a wash cloth over the counter and directed his next comment at Dean. “I got the CCTV working again. Pint for you, officer?”

  “Just a Diet Coke, thanks.”

  The publican turned away to pour our drinks, and, a minute later, we were shuffling away from the bar.

  “I should go and mingle,” I said, “but that thing you mentioned just then—I’m already on it.”

  He nodded grimly. “Good. Watch your back.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Following Jason’s tantrum at the show, we prepared a course of upright jumps for his training session on Monday, and made sure that one of us was always around, since I was pretty sure the surly show jumper would be in a bad temper.

  On Sunday, I’d given Darcy the day off—along with us—so that he could recover from his efforts at the show. If he were mine, I’d probably have taken him for a quiet hack today, rather than jumping again, but, sadly, it wasn’t my decision.

  Luckily, he came out of his stable looking bright and breezy, and his mood didn’t even diminish too much when Jason arrived.

  Perhaps because of that, their exercises went well, that morning and Darcy didn’t put a foot wrong. Jason almost cracked a smile before dismounting.

  “A perfect last effort before the Royal Highland,” Francine said, drifting along beside us as we walked the horse back to the stable yard.

  “I’ll give him an easy day tomorrow, then maybe a little schooling on Wednesday. Unless you want him to have a day off?”

  She fidgeted with the string of pearls around her neck, gazing at Jason’s back as he stalked ahead of us. “Whatever you think is best, Izzy. We’ll pick him up at five on Wednesday, so we can get him settled at the show ground before his class on Thursday.”

  I stopped outside Darcy’s stable, and nodded. “We’re doing similar with Allegra and Eagle. His class is at nine on Thursday, so it’d be an awfully early a start if we left that same morning.”