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Authors: Meg Brooke
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stepped away and allowed John to lift her into the saddle.
They rode out of the stableyard, Lord Pierce on a striking chestnut and Mr. Strathmore on a dappled gray. The day was fine yet, and the high clouds boded well for another splendid afternoon of warmth. Before it got too hot Eleanor meant to take them around the perimeter of the valley.
But first, she intended to give Mabon what he longed for. “Catch me if you can!” she called out, and she spurred her horse into a gallop.
Colin watched as Miss Chesney sped away over the small lawn that surrounded the house and towards what appeared to be a bridge over a narrow river in the distance.
“What a strange woman she is,” Strathmore said beside him.
Colin looked over at his companion, who was sitting like a sack of flour in the saddle. “You will ride more comfortably if you press down into the saddle,” he advised.
Strathmore smiled. “I don’t have much experience with horses. I did not have the benefit of an Eton education,” he added, sneering a little.
“Where did you go to school?” Colin asked, determined to be friendly.
“My uncle George Hamline has a school in Lyme Regis.”
“In Dorset?”
Strathmore nodded. “It was not the equal of Eton, of course, but it did well enough for me and my brothers.”
“So how did you come to the Foreign Office?”
“I served two years in Mysore.”
“You were a Company man?”
He nodded. “Officially I was attached to Governor-General Bentinck’s office, but most of my work was breaking codes and locks and ciphers for Sir Mark Cubbon.”
Colin raised an eyebrow. He knew Sir Mark by reputation, though of course he had never met the man, who had been serving in India since before Colin was born. The lieutenant general had a reputation for being a fair-minded reformer who had taken charge of the troublesome Mysore state a few years earlier, though he hadn’t been officially appointed Commissioner until this year. “A good place to cut your teeth,” he commented.
“It wasn’t for me. My first year all the men who went over with me died of the cholera. I was the only survivor. After that I began making friends with the members of the foreign service who had been stationed there. It wasn’t long before someone recommended me for a return to England and His Majesty’s service. On my way back we were stopped in Algeria to investigate the murders of three French officers there. It was another year before we returned to England.”
Now Colin understood why Strathmore had been assigned to his detail. “So you have knowledge of the Serraray,” he said.
Strathmore looked grim. “They are the most single-minded group I have ever encountered. There were organizations like theirs in India, you know, devoted to the overthrow of the British occupiers. But there were none who pursued that end with such intensity as the Berbers.”
“Do you speak any of the language?”
He shrugged. “Only a little. Enough to know where the word ‘Serraray’ comes from and to understand what that means.”
“What does it mean?” Colin knew the literal translation, but he had to admit that his knowledge of the native peoples of Algeria was lacking.
“I cannot speak for all Muslims,” Strathmore said carefully, “but to the Serraray it means that once their leader has given an order, it is as if that order had come from God himself. There is no turning back until it is fulfilled or death comes.” There was a note of awe in his voice, as though some small part of him admired their determination.
Colin nodded, looking across the field to where Miss Chesney had turned her horse and was galloping back to them. As she neared, she called out, “Let’s veer west first. The sun will only get stronger on the hillsides as it gets later.” She came back to ride with them. Her cheeks were pleasantly flushed, her hair tousled. She wore no hat, and the ruffled tie at the collar of her shirt that mimicked a cravat was
They rode out of the stableyard, Lord Pierce on a striking chestnut and Mr. Strathmore on a dappled gray. The day was fine yet, and the high clouds boded well for another splendid afternoon of warmth. Before it got too hot Eleanor meant to take them around the perimeter of the valley.
But first, she intended to give Mabon what he longed for. “Catch me if you can!” she called out, and she spurred her horse into a gallop.
Colin watched as Miss Chesney sped away over the small lawn that surrounded the house and towards what appeared to be a bridge over a narrow river in the distance.
“What a strange woman she is,” Strathmore said beside him.
Colin looked over at his companion, who was sitting like a sack of flour in the saddle. “You will ride more comfortably if you press down into the saddle,” he advised.
Strathmore smiled. “I don’t have much experience with horses. I did not have the benefit of an Eton education,” he added, sneering a little.
“Where did you go to school?” Colin asked, determined to be friendly.
“My uncle George Hamline has a school in Lyme Regis.”
“In Dorset?”
Strathmore nodded. “It was not the equal of Eton, of course, but it did well enough for me and my brothers.”
“So how did you come to the Foreign Office?”
“I served two years in Mysore.”
“You were a Company man?”
He nodded. “Officially I was attached to Governor-General Bentinck’s office, but most of my work was breaking codes and locks and ciphers for Sir Mark Cubbon.”
Colin raised an eyebrow. He knew Sir Mark by reputation, though of course he had never met the man, who had been serving in India since before Colin was born. The lieutenant general had a reputation for being a fair-minded reformer who had taken charge of the troublesome Mysore state a few years earlier, though he hadn’t been officially appointed Commissioner until this year. “A good place to cut your teeth,” he commented.
“It wasn’t for me. My first year all the men who went over with me died of the cholera. I was the only survivor. After that I began making friends with the members of the foreign service who had been stationed there. It wasn’t long before someone recommended me for a return to England and His Majesty’s service. On my way back we were stopped in Algeria to investigate the murders of three French officers there. It was another year before we returned to England.”
Now Colin understood why Strathmore had been assigned to his detail. “So you have knowledge of the Serraray,” he said.
Strathmore looked grim. “They are the most single-minded group I have ever encountered. There were organizations like theirs in India, you know, devoted to the overthrow of the British occupiers. But there were none who pursued that end with such intensity as the Berbers.”
“Do you speak any of the language?”
He shrugged. “Only a little. Enough to know where the word ‘Serraray’ comes from and to understand what that means.”
“What does it mean?” Colin knew the literal translation, but he had to admit that his knowledge of the native peoples of Algeria was lacking.
“I cannot speak for all Muslims,” Strathmore said carefully, “but to the Serraray it means that once their leader has given an order, it is as if that order had come from God himself. There is no turning back until it is fulfilled or death comes.” There was a note of awe in his voice, as though some small part of him admired their determination.
Colin nodded, looking across the field to where Miss Chesney had turned her horse and was galloping back to them. As she neared, she called out, “Let’s veer west first. The sun will only get stronger on the hillsides as it gets later.” She came back to ride with them. Her cheeks were pleasantly flushed, her hair tousled. She wore no hat, and the ruffled tie at the collar of her shirt that mimicked a cravat was
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