The Pretty Horse-Breakers

Cover-3

How long she stood there with the crowd milling round her, seeing and hearing nothing but her own misery, she had no idea, until suddenly Ned was at her side.

“’E wants to buy ’im, Miss Candida, you’d best come and talk to ’im. I’ve got ’im up to seventy-five guineas, but I thinks ’e would go a mite ’igher if ’e saw you.”

“Seventy-five guineas!” Candida repeated.

“It ain’t enough for Pegasus,” Ned insisted, “an ’undred is what I ’oped for. Come and talk to the gentleman, Miss Candida.”

“Yes, I will talk to him,” Candida agreed vaguely.

She suddenly felt that if she had to sell Pegasus she would sell him only at his proper worth. She would not allow him to be insulted by being knocked down for the paltry sum of seventy-five guineas. Ned was speaking the truth when he said there was not a horse to touch him at the whole fair – there would not be, there could not be, there was no animal in the world like Pegasus!

Without saying anything further, she followed Ned through the crowds to where in a corner of the field she saw Pegasus held by a groom. Beside him was the gentleman whom she knew must be the person interested in purchasing her horse.

At first glance Candida recognised his type all too well. That he was a man accustomed to being with horses was obvious. He almost looked like a horse with his long lined face and weather-beaten skin.

The fit of his coat and breeches and the neatness of his legs with their polished boots told her that he had always ridden and ridden well. A man who would be a hard rider to hounds, a man who undoubtedly knew a good horse when he saw one and would never make a mistake.

“This be the owner of Pegasus, sir,” she heard Ned say and she looked up to see an expression of surprise on the man’s face.

“My name is Major Hooper, ma’am. I am interested in your horse.”

“Are you buying him to ride yourself?” Candida asked in her soft voice.

She saw that it was not a question he had expected her to ask.

“I keep a livery stable, ma’am,” he replied. “I cater for the Nobility and the smartest ladies in town. Your horse will be well looked after, my grooms know their job.”

“And Pegasus will stay with you?” Candida enquired.

“Unless I am offered an exceedingly large sum for him,” Major Hooper said, “then he will go to some Ducal stables. He is a fine animal. I promise you, ma’am, that he will not be degraded into pulling the mail or sent to some Posting house.”

Pegasus had turned to nuzzle his nose against Candida’s cheek and she patted him gently. Then, looking at Major Hooper in what he described to himself as a scrutinising manner, she said,

“I believe what you tell me, but this is a very exceptional horse, unusual in many ways.”

She saw a faint smile twitch his thin lips as if this was something he had heard often enough before.

Impulsively she cried out,

“Wait, I will show you.”

She made a gesture to Ned, who understood. He helped her into the saddle, then, taking the reins, Candida guided Pegasus into the next field away from the crowds. There were few people there, only a number of farmers’ carts with their horses tied to a fence awaiting the return of their owners.

Candida put Pegasus through his paces. She made him trot, first in an ordinary manner and then throwing out a foreleg at each step. Then at her command he knelt, rose, turned round and round, first one way and then another, until with a touch of her whip, he stood up on his hind legs and walked, pawing the air in front of him.

She trotted him round once again and then back to Major Hooper.

“Those are only some of the things he can do,” she said, “and you should see him jump. He takes any fence, however high, as if he had wings.”

She had concentrated so hard at showing off Pegasus that she had no idea that Major Hooper was watching not only the horse, but her. Now, as she looked down at him from the back of the big black stallion, he took in every detail of her appearance – the small, oval face crowned, beneath a weather-beaten riding hat, with hair such as he had never seen before on any woman.

It should have been pale gold, the colour of ripening wheat and yet in it there was a hint of fire, a touch of red, which made it appear to have captured the rays of the sun.

It was perhaps the red in Candida’s hair that was responsible for the whiteness of her skin, which was like the petal of a Madonna lily. Smooth, soft and utterly flawless, it was not the skin of a girl who had lived all her life in the country and had it not been for her shabby habit and battered broken boots, Major Hooper would not have believed it possible for a woman to have such a skin without resorting to artifice.

But if her hair and skin were sensational, her eyes were even more so. Dark-lashed, they seemed unnaturally large in the thinness of her face and though he tried he could not determine what their colour might be.

When he had first seen her he thought her eyes were flecked with green, but now, because she was anxious concerning his decision, he thought that they were almost purple.

‘My God, she is lovely!’ he muttered to himself and then, as Candida dismounted, he said abruptly,

“Why are you selling him?”

He saw the elation that had been in her face at Pegasus’ performance vanish as though a dark blind had been drawn over a lighted window.

“I have to,” she answered briefly.

“I am sure you could persuade your father to keep him, you match each other so well.”

“My father is dead,” Candida replied in a low voice. “You don’t suppose I would part with Pegasus unless I was compelled to do so.”

“No, I can understand what he means to you,” Major Hooper agreed. “I have worked with horses all my life. They become a part of one, especially if one is fortunate enough to own a horse like this!’

“You understand then,” she whispered.

His sympathy had brought the tears back into her eyes and Major Hooper watching wondered if any woman’s eyes could look more expressive or more in need of a man’s comfort.

“It’s a pity you cannot show off Pegasus yourself,” he said suddenly. “You would get a proper price for him in London, far better than I can offer you, if you were riding him yourself.”

“I would do that willingly,” Candida said, “but how? I have no knowledge of London.”

“What would your family say if I offered to take you there?” Major Hooper enquired.

“I have no family,” Candida replied. “Walk Pegasus round the field, Ned. I would like Major Hooper to see him once again at a distance.”

Ned took the bridle and did as he was told. As soon as he was out of earshot Candida said,

“I will be frank with you, sir. I have to provide for Ned. He has been groom to my father and mother for twenty-one years, I cannot leave him penniless. Anything you give me for Pegasus will provide for his old age. I can only beg you to be generous.”

“And what will happen to you?” Major Hooper enquired.

She looked away from him across the field to where Pegasus, in high spirits, was pretending to shy at a piece of paper blowing in the wind.

“I will find employment of some sort,” she said vaguely. “Perhaps I could be a Governess or a companion.”

Major Hooper suddenly slapped his whip against his riding boots and the sound made her start.

“I will give you one hundred guineas for Pegasus,” he said, “if you will come to London with me and show him off in my school.”

“School?” Candida queried.

“I have a riding school attached to my livery stable.” Major Hooper explained. “Many horses that I purchase need further breaking before they are competent to carry ladies in a side-saddle for their rides in London and on Rotten Row,”

“I can help you do that?” Candida asked.

“Yes, and you can show Pegasus off to those who are interested,” Major Hooper said.

“I would love to do that, it sounds too wonderful. Are you sure I shall not be any trouble?”

“You will be no trouble,” he assured her.

“But – my – clothes,” Candida stammered.

“Everything will be seen to,” he promised. “You can trust me not to let you down on that score.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Candida cried. “I can stay with Pegasus! I cannot tell you what it means to me!”

“I can understand that,” Major Hooper said unsurely, “and now I should be getting back to town. If you come with me, it will make things easier.”

“At once? Do you mean now – just as I am?” Candida asked.

“I’ll see that you are not wanting for anything when you reach London,” Major Hooper said. “If you have any luggage of any sort, then perhaps your groom can bring it up to you tomorrow. I’ll pay his expenses and give him now a note of hand for one hundred guineas, which he can change at a bank. It would not be wise for him to carry such a large sum about with him.”

“No, indeed not,” Candida replied, “it is very kind of you to be so thoughtful.”

“I’m used to such dealings,” Major Hooper said. “May I be frank, ma’am, in saying that never before have I been fortunate an finding at a country fair of this sort such a magnificent animal or such a very attractive owner.”

He saw Candida blush at the compliment. Just for a moment the lily whiteness of her skin took on the soft pink of a rosebud. Then she smiled at him and he could only think once again that he had never seen such fantastic eyes.

‘My God, I’ve got a bargain!’ he said to himself, as he watched her run across the field towards Ned to tell him the news.

Not even the dowdy thread worn habit could disguise her grace and Major Hooper, a man little given to sentiment, found himself muttering beneath his breath,

“She’s lovely and she’ll pay for it! Poor little devil!”

Chapter TwoAs Candida drove into London beside Major Hooper in his fast yellow and black phaeton, she felt that a new world was opening before her.

It was not long before the green fields of Potters Bar gave way to suburban houses with flower-filled gardens and then the increasing traffic told her that they were nearing the great City, which she had visited only twice in her whole life.

It was the horses that interested her more than anything else. She stared at a pair of well-matched roans drawing a ponderous family carriage gleaming with brass, the c****d-hatted coachman wearing many-tiered driving capes. On another such vehicle the horses’ heads were held high by bearing reins and there were a brace of powdered flunkeys on the dicky seat.

Sometimes, as they flashed by, she would have a glimpse of an attractive face at a window or the rosy-hued nose of a rich owner.

Then her eyes would be attracted to the chestnuts drawing a fashionable Victoria open to the afternoon sunshine and conveying a vision of fashion holding a ridiculously small lace-trimmed sunshade.

She found it hard to take her eyes also from the riders on horseback. Their sleek, well-groomed mounts made her wonder how Pegasus would compare with them, but it was a question with an easy answer as he was undoubtedly incomparable.

“We don’t pass any shops,” Major Hooper commented, thinking that, as Candida turned her head eagerly from side to side, she was, like so many women, window-gazing.

“Are the shops only in the centre of London?” Candida asked.

“The ones that will interest you are,” he replied. “I live the Park side of St. John’s Wood – a very fashionable quarter at the moment.”

He glanced at her sharply as he spoke, as if he expected her either to challenge the statement or to show that she was aware of something that he implied. The lovely little face turned up to him showed no emotion other than the ordinary interest that any young girl might have shown in his conversation.

“It is a good position then for your livery stable?” she asked innocently.

Major Hooper’s lips twitched as he replied,

“My customers are all around me.”

“That must be very convenient,” Candida remarked, no longer attending, but watching a young gallant, his top hat at a saucy angle, coping with his stallion that had shied at a coster’s barrel.