Authors: A London Season
Mr. Althorpe was a gentle, scholarly man who occasionally took on pupils in order to supplement his income. Both Jane and David learned to read with astonishing rapidity. Mr. Althorpe was very impressed with their evident enthusiasm. He would have been sadly disillusioned to discover that the main reason they were so anxious to learn was so they could read the
Racing Calendar
by themselves.
Jane's French lessons went well, also. David spoke French fluently so Jane, always anxious to keep up with him, attacked it with vigor. Her piano lessons went less successfully. She had no ear for music at all and only played when actually taking the lesson from David's aunt. Much as Mlle. Dumont urged her to practice at home, the great piano in the drawing room at Heathfield remained untouched. Jane had better things to do.
In the good weather the two children would ride out by themselves, exploring every corner of West Suffolk on their ponies. They kept most often to the rolling downs, but they became a familiar sight as well in Newmarket and the local villages.
The heath, of course, fascinated them. The sight of the Marquis's horses and the horses from other studs in the area, their gleaming coats shining in the sun as they were galloped in the early-morning workouts, affected Jane more profoundly than the most beautiful music ever could.
They could often be found on Marren Hill, which was not used by the stables as was nearby Warren Hill. Marren was too steep for a horse to canter up it; it had only a few narrow paths, more ably climbed by humans than by horses. On one side there was an old quarry gouged into the hillside. Jane and David would often climb the hill, leaving their ponies tethered to a tree at the bottom, and picnic among the old beeches that grew on the hillside overlooking the quarry.
They took over a corner of the tack room where they would sit on rainy days pouring over the
Racing Calendar
and the
General Stud Book.
As the years passed and their apprenticeship with Reverend Althorpe lengthened, their reading material broadened considerably. Plutarch's
Lives,
Cook's
Voyages,
Goldsmith's
History of Rome,
Robertson's
History of America,
were all devoured and discussed with enthusiasm.
They were both indifferent Latin scholars. Privately Jane confided to David that since they were never going to have to talk to anybody in Latin, she didn't see any reason in learning it. David agreed. After all, he pointed out, all the great books written in Latin had been translated into English anyway. They were both well acquainted with the translations, cribbing from them mercilessly rather than making the effort to translate on their own.
They persevered with Mr. Althorpe, although they were convinced that they learned more by themselves reading in the tack room. As they grew older, Tuft allowed them to help with the Marquis's thoroughbreds, and by the time Jane was ten and David was eleven they were riding some very expensive horseflesh in training gallops over Newmarket Heath.
Tuft had gotten permission from Lord Rayleigh before he put them up. “Those children have the best hands and seats of anyone in the stable, my lord,” he had said frankly.
"Can they hold a thoroughbred, though, Tuft?” the Marquis had asked incredulously.
"Not all of ‘em, my lord. At least not yet. But mark my words, David will be able to ride anything in a few years’ time."
"And Lady Jane?"
Tuft heaved a heartfelt sigh. “I don't want to be forward, my lord, but it's often I've been sorry Lady Jane was born a girl. She's a little lass, but she can hold her own with at least four horses who'll be running next year."
The Marquis, who saw his niece more frequently at the stable than he did under his own roof, privately agreed. He gave permission for Jane and David to ride his horses, and both children plunged into the demanding routine of a racing stable with an intense enthusiasm that neither falls nor sore muscles could diminish.
I do but keep the peace....
—William Shakespeare
David lay stretched out on the grassy bank that bordered their private lake and watched Jane fishing. She was standing on a flat rock a little way out from the shore, a rod in her hand. Her gaze was intent upon the quiet water; she looked as if she were
willing
a fish to bite her line, he thought in lazy amusement.
He watched her quietly, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back. She had grown taller this past year, he thought. The legs that were revealed by her shamelessly hitched-up skirt were long and slim. There was a tug on her line and he sat up as she pulled in her catch, every motion of her body suggesting the accomplished poise of an acrobat.
She grasped the fish firmly and waded back to the shore where she threw herself down beside David. Next to him she scarcely seemed tanned at all, but her neck under her tied-back hair was milk-white compared to the faint gold of her cheeks. “I wish we could stay here always,” she said intensely. “Just the two of us."
He nodded understandingly. For the past week they had been embroiled in what David called privately “The Battle of the Sidesaddle."
It had begun when the Marquis had invited a group of friends down for a house party and they had all gone hunting. Jane and David had gone along as well, as they had been doing for the past year.
They had had an excellent run, both children distinguishing themselves by jumping a fence that had a bad, sloping take-off that necessitated jumping from almost a walk. The majority of the field had detoured around it.
It was after dinner that evening that Lady Sarah Hadden had commented with surprise that Jane was still allowed to ride astride. “How old is she now, my lord?” she asked the Marquis innocently.
Lord Rayleigh had to think for a moment. “Twelve,” he said finally.
"Twelve! I'm surprised her governess allows it."
The Marquis felt faintly uncomfortable. “I'm afraid she hasn't got a governess, Lady Sarah."
"She hasn't got a governess!” Lady Sarah stared at him in genuine amazement.
"Then who teaches her, my lord?” joined in Mrs. Carsford, who had been listening.
"She goes to the Rectory at St. Margaret's,” he said defensively. “The Reverend Mr. Althorpe is a highly respected scholar. I might say that he has the greatest respect for Jane's ability.” A well-developed sense of self-preservation prevented him from mentioning she was partnered in her studies by a local boy whom he had engaged to work in his stables for the summer.
"How very odd,” Mrs. Carsford murmured, her thin brows raised. “But Sarah is right, you know, my lord. She really should not ride astride at her age."
So the edict had come down from Lord Rayleigh: Lady Jane was to learn to ride sidesaddle. Jane had looked with revulsion on the awkward saddle and had stalked out of the stables and into the house where she found her uncle having breakfast.
"I will not ride that thing,” she said fiercely, planting herself directly across the table from him.
"Yes, you will,” he said. “All the ladies were horrified to see you riding astride. You should have been put on a sidesaddle ages ago. I'm afraid I keep forgetting how old you are."
He looked in exasperation at his niece, noting as David would later that she had grown taller. For the first time he really saw the bone structure of her face, clear now that the childish softness of chin and cheeks had gone. With deep surprise he realized that Jane was going to be beautiful. All the more reason, he told himself firmly, for her to learn to conduct herself as a lady.
The Marquis of Rayleigh was at this time thirty-two years of age. He spent about half of the year in London and half of the year at Heathfield, with weeks set aside for visits to other great houses and sporting excursions. He was a good-natured, easy-going man, whose one abiding interest in life was his horses. He liked his niece and up to now he had approved of her. She was a smashing rider; it was a pleasure to watch her fearlessly take a steep jump or hold a nervous thoroughbred to a collected canter. He had never thought much about the fact that her life was excessively odd for a young girl of her class and expectations.
Jane would inherit eighty thousand pounds when she was twenty-one. She was a considerable heiress and would be expected to fill a high position in society. As he looked at his niece, dressed neatly in coat and well-worn breeches and boots, her hair pulled back off her high-cheekboned face, he felt a pang of guilt.
She was in a temper. Her extraordinary sea-blue eyes flashed at him.
"Enough, Jane,” he said firmly. “I blame myself for allowing you to run wild for so long. You are growing into a young lady, my dear. You must learn to act like one. You are to ride a sidesaddle from now on, and that's an end to it.” He had terminated the argument by leaving the room, and for the past six days had held firm.
Jane was miserable. She had made one attempt to ride the sidesaddle, taking one of the hunters around the paddock for a few turns. She had returned to the stable in twenty minutes, her nostrils white with temper. “If I must ride this stupid way, I would rather not ride at all,” she announced to Tuft.
Every groom in the stable looked at her in silent sympathy. There wasn't a man there who wouldn't have died for the small, imperious, black-haired child who stood before them, vibrating with misery and with anger.
She had been as good as her word. She hadn't ridden for four days now, and she was wretched. David, who was getting paid handsomely for his work this summer, had taken a few hours off to drive her out to their secret place.
He looked at her now in sympathetic comprehension. “You don't think Lord Rayleigh will change his mind?"
"No. All he does is say stupid things, like I have to learn to be a lady and behave like other girls. Well, I'm not like other girls!” Jane cried passionately.
"Of course you're not,” he said matter-of-factly. With an easy movement he rose to his feet. “I've got to get back, Jane. Come along. I think I might have an idea."
He reached down to take her hand, pulling her somewhat unwillingly to her feet. She looked up at him, slightly resentful that he was growing so much taller than she. He was still slender, but the young body under the shirt and worn breeches was firm and hardened and had none of the awkwardness that often afflicts adolescents. At thirteen, three inches taller than he had been last year, David still never put a foot wrong.
"An idea?” she said hopefully. “What?"
But he refused to say, hustling her back through the woods to the gig that had been their transportation. When they reached the stables again, David put the sidesaddle on Centurian, one of the older hunters, and led him out to the paddock. Then David got into the saddle.
Jane leaned against the white railing, watching him go around. He finally stopped and called her over. She looked up at him and grinned.
"I know,” he said good-humoredly. “Look at this, Jane,” he gestured to his right leg, crooked over the horn and resting securely in a high stirrup. “I'm virtually locked in,” he said. “You'd never get thrown from a seat like this."
She put her hand on his leg and pushed. “I suppose not. But what has that got to do with anything?"
David jumped down. “I don't like it at all,” he said with a worried frown. “It isn't safe. What would happen if you were out hunting and your horse fell?"
Jane stared at him a minute, then revelation dawned. “I would be trapped in the saddle,” she said slowly. “The horse would fall right on me."
There was a tight look around David's firm mouth. “Bound to. Talk to your uncle about that, Jane. And Jane,” he reached out to lightly touch her arm, “I'd accept a compromise if I were you."
For a long minute she stared rebelliously into the golden brown of David's eyes. His steady look never wavered. Then she heaved a sigh, nodded, and went off toward the house.
Lord Rayleigh was not at home, which gave Jane time to think through her approach. David had said she would have to compromise. Jane had long since realized that David was much more adept at dealing with people than she, so she pondered his suggestion seriously. She decided that she was prepared to learn
how
to ride sidesaddle, so long as she didn't have to actually
do
it.
Jane's attack on the sidesaddle as unsafe made a distinct impression on Lord Rayleigh. She had confronted him as he came in from a drive to the Hertforts’ and, resignedly, he had taken her into the library.
"But, dash it, Jane, all women hunt sidesaddle,” he protested.
"None of those women who were here last week did, Uncle Edward. Every single one of them turned back after fifteen minutes."
This was indisputably true. Women always came to hunt meets, but very few rode out with the men. It was too fast and rough for most women riders.
"I hope you don't expect me to stop hunting,” Jane said indignantly.
Most men would not have hesitated to tell her that the hunting field was no place for a girl. Lord Rayleigh, who reverenced good horsemanship, could not do it. “No,” he said slowly. “Of course you must hunt."
He frowned. Now that he thought of it, what she had said was true. She'd never be thrown clear if she were riding in that damned saddle. The thing was a bloody death trap. He hesitated, looking at her worriedly.
"I'll make a bargain with you, Uncle Edward,” Jane said in her cool, clipped voice.
He grinned. He couldn't help it. Any other girl would have coaxed and pleaded. Not Jane. “What bargain, brat?” he said.
"If I promise to learn to ride sidesaddle and to ride it on all formal occasions, may I continue to ride astride here at home?"
He thought for a minute. “I have one other condition."
She looked at him suspiciously. “What is that?"
"You must get yourself a skirt. Those breeches have to go."
There was a pause as Jane considered. “All right,” she agreed. The Battle of the Sidesaddle was over.
There were repercussions, though. For the first time the Marquis began to think of his niece as a young girl. He was easy-going and careless, but once he thought about it he realized that Jane could not be allowed to continue as she was going. The next time he went up to London he consulted with Lady Carrington, a cousin in her forties who had young daughters of her own. The result of this discussion was that the following year Jane was sent to Miss Farner's Select Academy for Young Ladies in Queen Square, Bath.