wind in my hair."
"So you've a mind to ride the cracks, do you? 'Tis not the thing at all for a lady, ye know."
"What do I care for that? Please teach me to ride astride, won't you?"
"Ye truly think ye be up to the task?"
Charlotte lit up. "Yes indeed! If you'll only but show me."
"It'll be the devil to pay if'n the Bart should get wind of it," he warned.
"I promise he won't. I'll come to the stables before anyone is up at the house. Please, Jeffries."
The wide hazel eyes did him in. The stable master sighed in capitulation.
"Thank you, Jeffries!" Turning back to the saddlery, she asked, "Now which one shall I use? This one?" She indicated another saddle.
"Not unless ye be plannin' to leap the hedgerows chasin' foxes," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Mayhap not right away," she answered in all gravity. "But I fail to see the difference between any of those without the leg horn on them," she said with consternation.
"Then look more closely. Ye see the seat? This rise in the front is called the pommel, and the back is the cantle. On a hunting saddle, the pommel be low so that the rider can rise up in his seat to better take his fences."
"Oh, I see." Charlotte approached what looked like no more than an elongated leather pad. "And this one, Jeffries?" she asked.
"Ah, that be a racing saddle."
"But there's nothing to it! How does one even secure it to the horse?"
Jeffries pulled out a wide woven strap. "This is a surcingle. It goes over the saddle and around the horse's belly."
"It doesn't look like it would be very secure," she remarked skeptically.
"That be true, lass, but 'tis small and light, made that way to not interfere with the horse's running."
"We'll use this one." He pulled an exercise saddle from the rack, along with a blanket.
"Now, lass, bring me the snaffle. He indicated an entire wall covered with leather headstalls hanging from their hooks.
"What is a snaffle?"
Then commenced her lesson in bits and bridles.
After learning the basics of riding tackle, Charlotte was ready to commence her lessons upon Amoret. Waiting until the grooms and horses were going about the morning exercise and the stable block all but deserted, Jeffries instructed her in riding astride.
Her first few lessons were conducted with a long length of rope attached to the bridle, which Jeffries used to control the horse, while Charlotte learned equilibrium in the saddle. Greatly surprising the stablemaster, Charlotte proved to have a natural rider's seat and was confidently poised in only a matter of days. A fortnight later she and Amoret were leaving the exercise paddock and trotting freely out of the stable yard, with the mare tossing her head and snorting in delight.
With elation Charlotte and Amoret explored the open heath until unexpectedly encountering that horrid undergroom astride Sir Garfield's prime racing prospect. He had snuck up from behind, taking her unawares. Well, in all fairness, he hadn't exactly snuck up. He had spoken first, called out, but startled her nonetheless.
Charlotte was tongue-tied and paralyzed with fear that he would discover her identity and betray her to her uncle, and her only happiness would come to an abrupt end almost before it had begun. With a racing heart, she followed her first impulse, spurred her mare into action, and fled.
Needing little encouragement from her rider, the spirited mare sprung. Nostrils flaring, tail in the air, she surged forth, increasing her stride with each drawn breath. The young man, struggling to catch them, hung closely over his own horse's neck, spurring, encouraging, but still losing ground until the mist of the heath swallowed them. The sprightly Amoret was lightning on four legs!
Arriving back at the stable yard breathless, Charlotte dismounted, but Robert arrived hot on her heels. He swung agilely down from his saddle to land
"So you've a mind to ride the cracks, do you? 'Tis not the thing at all for a lady, ye know."
"What do I care for that? Please teach me to ride astride, won't you?"
"Ye truly think ye be up to the task?"
Charlotte lit up. "Yes indeed! If you'll only but show me."
"It'll be the devil to pay if'n the Bart should get wind of it," he warned.
"I promise he won't. I'll come to the stables before anyone is up at the house. Please, Jeffries."
The wide hazel eyes did him in. The stable master sighed in capitulation.
"Thank you, Jeffries!" Turning back to the saddlery, she asked, "Now which one shall I use? This one?" She indicated another saddle.
"Not unless ye be plannin' to leap the hedgerows chasin' foxes," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Mayhap not right away," she answered in all gravity. "But I fail to see the difference between any of those without the leg horn on them," she said with consternation.
"Then look more closely. Ye see the seat? This rise in the front is called the pommel, and the back is the cantle. On a hunting saddle, the pommel be low so that the rider can rise up in his seat to better take his fences."
"Oh, I see." Charlotte approached what looked like no more than an elongated leather pad. "And this one, Jeffries?" she asked.
"Ah, that be a racing saddle."
"But there's nothing to it! How does one even secure it to the horse?"
Jeffries pulled out a wide woven strap. "This is a surcingle. It goes over the saddle and around the horse's belly."
"It doesn't look like it would be very secure," she remarked skeptically.
"That be true, lass, but 'tis small and light, made that way to not interfere with the horse's running."
"We'll use this one." He pulled an exercise saddle from the rack, along with a blanket.
"Now, lass, bring me the snaffle. He indicated an entire wall covered with leather headstalls hanging from their hooks.
"What is a snaffle?"
Then commenced her lesson in bits and bridles.
After learning the basics of riding tackle, Charlotte was ready to commence her lessons upon Amoret. Waiting until the grooms and horses were going about the morning exercise and the stable block all but deserted, Jeffries instructed her in riding astride.
Her first few lessons were conducted with a long length of rope attached to the bridle, which Jeffries used to control the horse, while Charlotte learned equilibrium in the saddle. Greatly surprising the stablemaster, Charlotte proved to have a natural rider's seat and was confidently poised in only a matter of days. A fortnight later she and Amoret were leaving the exercise paddock and trotting freely out of the stable yard, with the mare tossing her head and snorting in delight.
With elation Charlotte and Amoret explored the open heath until unexpectedly encountering that horrid undergroom astride Sir Garfield's prime racing prospect. He had snuck up from behind, taking her unawares. Well, in all fairness, he hadn't exactly snuck up. He had spoken first, called out, but startled her nonetheless.
Charlotte was tongue-tied and paralyzed with fear that he would discover her identity and betray her to her uncle, and her only happiness would come to an abrupt end almost before it had begun. With a racing heart, she followed her first impulse, spurred her mare into action, and fled.
Needing little encouragement from her rider, the spirited mare sprung. Nostrils flaring, tail in the air, she surged forth, increasing her stride with each drawn breath. The young man, struggling to catch them, hung closely over his own horse's neck, spurring, encouraging, but still losing ground until the mist of the heath swallowed them. The sprightly Amoret was lightning on four legs!
Arriving back at the stable yard breathless, Charlotte dismounted, but Robert arrived hot on her heels. He swung agilely down from his saddle to land
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