Secret of the Stallion (2 page)

The girls had riding classes on Tuesdays and Horse Wise Pony Club meetings on Saturdays. They usually found excuses to get to Pine Hollow other days as well. Their hard work and focus on horses and riding had earned them the respect of Max Regnery.

That, in turn, had earned them the right to be on the airplane that had now taken off and was flying over the Atlantic Ocean to London. They were going to England as part of an international Pony Club exchange program. Sometime earlier the program had brought four dashing and fun Italian boys to Willow Creek, Virginia. Now The Saddle Club was going to perform in a mounted games demonstration of Pony Clubbers at a three-day event in England.

“How long are we staying in London?” Carole asked.

“Three days,” said Lisa. “That should give us a chance to see a few things, though not nearly as many as my parents dragged me to when we were there for two weeks last summer.” She consulted the itinerary Mrs. Reg’s travel agent had prepared for everyone. Stevie had had one, but couldn’t find it in her backpack. Carole had left
hers at home. “Then we take a chartered bus to Cummington Castle, where the three-day event takes place.”

“I can’t wait for the three-day event,” said Carole. “A full day of dressage, followed by one of endurance cross-country riding, and finishing up with stadium jumping. Did you know that three-day events were originally devised to test a military horse’s fitness at charging in battle? The difficulty of the program would test any horse’s fitness, actually, but it gave the officers a chance to show off their horses’ courage and endurance as well. The three-day event was originally called a Military. Did you know that?”

“I do now,” said Lisa. She was always interested in what Carole had to share, but if she and Stevie didn’t stop her, Carole would get into a lengthy history of the event that might not stop until they touched down at Heathrow!

Stevie tugged on Max’s seat back to get his attention. “Is it true that Nigel is going to be there?” she asked.

“That’s what Dorothy said,” Max told her through the space between the seats. Dorothy was a former student of Max’s, now retired from showing because of a riding accident. She was married to Nigel Hawthorne, a member of the British Equestrian Team. It seemed quite logical that he would be competing in a prestigious event like Cummington. “Didn’t I tell you about the horse he’ll be riding?”

No, he hadn’t, and the girls told him so.

“He’s riding a stallion by the name of Pound Sterling. He’s from Yawelkesleigh Farms.”

“Yaw-what?” asked Stevie.

“I don’t know how to pronounce it—just how to spell it, and I’m not so sure of that,” said Max. “Anyway, Dorothy was excited about the horse. Said Nigel would bring out the best in the animal.”

Of that, there was no doubt. Nigel was a wonderful rider, and the girls were really excited about having the chance to cheer for him.

“I’m going to sleep now and I suggest you do the same,” Max said. He reached up and switched off his light. “We’ll be in London before you know it, and we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

The girls didn’t switch off their lights and they had no intention of going to sleep. There was much too much to talk about.

“Are you sure Tessa is going to be there?” Carole asked Lisa.

Lisa reached into her purse again and pulled out the letter she’d received from Lady Theresa, better known to her as Tessa. Lisa had met Tessa when she’d been in England with her parents. She was an actual, true titled English lady and a distant cousin to the queen, but as far as Lisa was concerned, the most important thing about Tessa was that she was just a really nice girl about Lisa’s own age.

Lisa opened the letter. “Yup, here it is. She writes, ‘I can’t wait to see you. I have some wonderful fun planned for us all. Do save a day for me. Will you and your friends be able to come riding at our place?’ ”

“You did say yes, didn’t you?” Stevie asked.

“You think I’m crazy? Of course I said yes!”

“Did anyone hear from the Italian boys?” Carole asked.

“Not me,” said Lisa.

“Max did,” Stevie told her friends. “He heard from their coach anyway. They’ll be there—all four of them. Remember how much fun we had when Enrico, Marco, Gian, and Andre were at Pine Hollow?”

Carole turned to Lisa. “And you saw Enrico when you were in Italy with your parents, didn’t you?”

“I sure did. We stayed with him, in their house.”

“Didn’t you say it was more like a castle?” Stevie asked.

“I guess it was,” Lisa agreed. “It seemed to me that it was so big that the East Wing had a West Wing.”

“I never would have figured him for a zillionaire,” said Stevie. “He’s so normal.”

“Just being rich doesn’t make someone a snob,” Lisa said.

“Speaking of that, I wonder how Veronica is doing,” said Stevie. She was referring to Veronica diAngelo, another rider at Pine Hollow and the fourth member of their relay team. She was on the same plane they were on. She was just in another section.

July 15

Dear Diary,

Thank goodness for first class!

When Max and Mrs. Reg, Stevie, Lisa, and Carole were getting into their seats back in coach, I saw how jammed they were. I also got a whiff of the food they were going to have to eat! At least my parents had the good sense to put me in the front of the plane. And Daddy promised he’d ordered a car service to take me to the hotel. I’ll have my cases unpacked by the time the others get off the bus, and I’ll be sound asleep before they get checked in
.

I’ve finished the caviar and other hors d’oeuvres. While the attendant is grilling my steak, I thought I’d take a minute to write in my journal. I’ll be going to sleep right after dinner. These wide seats are so comfortable!

And they’d better be to make up for what Daddy asked me to do. He says I have to call these people, the Chumleys. Can you believe the name? Anyway, it seems like they are some kind of big important client of Daddy’s bank
.

Well, if it’s so important to Daddy, I guess I can do it. I just hope I don’t have to spend any time with them or anything. There are too many wonderful stores to visit in London for me to want to waste any time with some old fuddy-duddies
.

Here comes the steak! Good night
—

Veronica
    

“I
F SHE SAYS
one more word about how good her steak was, I think I’m going to throttle her,” Stevie grumbled to Lisa. They were all standing in a line at Heathrow.

“Have you seen my passport?” Carole asked Lisa.

“Who has the luggage claims?” Max asked.

“Did you girls sleep at all?” asked Mrs. Reg.

“Who cares? It’s in your left hand. Mrs. Reg has them. And no,” Lisa said, addressing everybody’s concerns at once. It was eight o’clock in the morning and her body thought it was the middle of the night, but Lisa could still be organized and everybody knew they could count on her. Even Veronica followed her as the group stood waiting to have their passports stamped.

“What comes next?” Stevie asked.

“Luggage claim,” Lisa said authoritatively.

“I think we should always travel with her,” Max teased. “She knows everything. I’m still half asleep.”

“Oh, really?” Veronica said, sounding surprised. “Didn’t you sleep well?”

Max didn’t answer. He did, however, put his arm out to keep Stevie from throttling Veronica, who had spent the five minutes since they’d met at the door of the plane telling the others how nice first class was.

Lisa collected their passports and presented them to the immigration officer all at once.

“Business or pleasure?” he asked.

“Business,” said Max.

“Pleasure,” said The Saddle Club.

“We’re going to be riding horses,” Carole explained.

“Have a good visit,” said the officer, stamping their passports.

Fifteen minutes later, they had found their luggage and passed through customs. Now all they had to do was find transportation into the city.

“Daddy’s ordered a car service for me,” said Veronica. “If you want, a few of you could come along, though it won’t be much fun if it’s crowded …”

It was an invitation that did not endear Veronica to her fellow travelers.

“No thanks,” Stevie said. “We’ll manage in tourist. You just go ahead in first class.”

“Oh, all right,” said Veronica, apparently oblivious to the irritation she was causing.

They took their bags out to the curb.

A long, shiny black limousine pulled up near where they stood. Veronica’s eyes lit up in expectation. The door opened. Out jumped a girl about the age of The Saddle Club’s members. She had a big grin on her face and she waved wildly, trying to get their attention.

“Lisa! Lisa, it’s me!”

Lisa turned. “Tessa! You came to meet us?”

“Of course!” The girls ran to meet one another and hugged. “And there’s plenty of room in this boat of a car for everyone, plus bags. Hamilton,” she said to the driver, “can you help them stow the luggage in the boot?”

Hamilton tipped his hat and the trunk lid slid open. He started taking suitcases.

As Stevie handed her bag to Hamilton, she looked at Veronica. Veronica was still waiting for the car service her father had ordered, looking impatiently over the sea of cars and taxis. Then it came.

A small, once red car that looked as if it had seen better days—many of them—pulled up to the curb. A scruffy, unshaven man stepped out. He pulled a piece of cardboard out with him. It said “diAngelo” on it. He spotted the group from Pine Hollow and walked over, partly in response to a wave from Stevie.

“Miz doy Hangelo?” he asked Stevie in a very thick accent she assumed was what the English called Cockney.

“No, not I,” said Stevie. “This is Miss diAngelo.” She pointed to the pale Veronica.

“Royt this whoy, miss,” he said, picking up Veronica’s suitcase. She had nothing to do but follow him. The look on her face as she headed to the old beat-up car while her friends climbed into a spacious limousine was worth every bite of soggy pizza that Stevie had suffered while cramped in the economy section of the airplane. Stevie sighed with contentment.

None of the group started laughing until after the limousine’s doors had shut and the windows had been raised. Then even Max couldn’t contain himself.

They agreed that they would be sure to call her “Miz doy Hangelo” only on very special occasions.

A
FEW HOURS
later, The Saddle Club felt like different people. They’d had a chance to check into their hotel, unpack a few things, and take a nap. They were refreshed and ready to see the world by noon when Tessa showed up to take them on the grand tour.

Again Hamilton was there with the car. The girls invited Veronica to join them, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist the limousine. Stevie thought it was too bad that Veronica was so impressed with Tessa’s car that Veronica never seemed to notice what a nice person Tessa was. That was just like Veronica, too.

“First stop—the Tower of London,” said Tessa.

They took off.

The Tower was an old castle in the center of what was now London’s business district—like Wall Street in New York. It had stood on the banks of the Thames River (Tessa pronounced it “the Tems”) for a thousand years. Kings and queens had been beheaded there, and nobody knew how many had suffered torture and death in its infamous dungeon.

“This place gives me the creeps,” said Carole.

“Me too. Isn’t it wonderful?” Stevie remarked.

“Can you imagine all the history this place has seen?” Lisa sighed.

“Where are the crown jewels?” Veronica wanted to know.

They saw the creepy parts, the wonderful ones, the historic places, and, of course, the crown jewels. It gave them all a start to realize that, as even a distant cousin to the queen, Tessa was probably related to some of the people who had ruled, and suffered, within the walls of the Tower of London.

“
Very
distant relatives,” Tessa explained, laughing.

Even Veronica couldn’t resist laughing when Tessa said silly things like that.

Their next stop was Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum. It was a collection of wax statues, very real likenesses, of famous people, all dressed in costumes of their times. In some cases, like the one of Elvis Presley, the wax statues were wearing clothes that had actually belonged to the real people.

“Oh, look at the gowns!” Veronica remarked, admiring some of the clothes the wax royals were wearing.

“I don’t know,” said Stevie. “In some ways, this is creepier than the Tower of London. At least there, I could just imagine the people. Here, I have to see them—in wax.”

Carole sat down on a seat next to another tired tourist. A second look at her seatmate revealed that it was actually another wax statue! She laughed and called her friends over.

“Maybe they’ll make statues of us to put in here someday. We wouldn’t take up much space, would we?” she asked.

“I don’t think they’re interested in American riders here,” said Tessa. “They mostly want the famous, the infamous, and the gory—”

“Preferably all three,” Stevie said, passing by a gruesome dungeon scene.