Wildthorn

Tom was riding Chevalier, who belonged to Grace's brother, William. When I'd referred to the horse as "brown," Tom had explained, with that new superior manner he had nowadays, that Chevalier was a bay, because he had a black mane and tail. He was rather big for Tom. Grace had warned Tom to keep Chevalier away from the other horses because he could be aggressive and would bite if he got the chance.

 

Tom seemed to be heeding her: he was keeping Chevalier several feet away from Lady but he hissed across the gap, "There's no need to look so pleased with yourself, Miss Smug-Boots. Just because you're Papa's pet."

 

Mindful of Grace, for once I didn't retaliate, but I wished Tom would be more agreeable. These days he seemed so distant, as if now that he was almost thirteen and going away to school soon, I was beneath his notice.

 

I sighed, thinking enviously of Tom's new box of mathematical instruments—the shiny compasses, and the folding ruler, that fitted so neatly into their red velvet grooves. They seemed like keys to an exciting world, from which I was shut out.

 

I sighed again and then put it out of my mind—it was a lovely day and I was determined to enjoy myself.

 

Still keeping my back straight, I glanced down at the riding habit Grace had lent me. It was her old one, too big for me, but I felt very proud. In my borrowed gloves and hat, I almost looked like a proper horsewoman. I would never look like my cousin though.

 

Every night before we went to sleep, she let me brush her long tawny hair; it was fine and smooth, unlike my dark tangle. Then we'd curl up together in Grace's big bed, "snuggling" Grace called it, and talk.

 

The night before Grace had been telling me about William, who was away at school. He wrote her letters all the time. I couldn't imagine Tom bothering.

 

William was going to take over Uncle Bertram's business one day.

 

"Should you like to do that?" I'd asked.

 

Grace had laughed. "Of course not. I shall be a lady like Mamma. I'll marry a handsome man like Papa and have a big house with servants to do all the work. We'll have lots of children and horses and dogs. What about you, Lou?"

 

This was easy.

 

"I'm going to be a hero." I had been sneakily reading one of Tom's books, Every Boy's Book of Heroes. "I wouldn't mind being an explorer and discovering a new country no one else has ever seen before. But what I'd really like is to be a scientist and discover a cure for—for typhoid or diphtheria." These were some of the illnesses I'd discussed with Papa.

 

Beside me in the dark, Grace had giggled. "Oh, Lou, you are funny. You can't be a hero."

 

"Why not?

 

"Because only men are heroes."

 

I puzzled about this a long time. I was a bit bothered that Grace thought it was a funny idea. Why couldn't ladies be heroes? Perhaps they didn't want to be. In that case it was simple. Just before I fell asleep I made a decision. "I will be the first lady hero."

 

Papa's voice broke into my musings.

 

"Are you ready to try trotting?"

 

"Yes, Papa."

 

Papa smiled his approval at me. "Tom?"

 

My brother nodded and we set off at a faster pace.

 

"Remember to rise with the motion."

 

Once I managed to adjust to Lady's rhythm, I loved it. I was riding, really riding.

 

After a while Papa stopped and said, "Have you had enough?"

 

"Oh no, Papa, not yet," I said.

 

Tom narrowed his eyes at me. But he said, "I'd like to carry on, Papa."

 

"I'll join you," said Grace leading her pony, Shadow, forward. Before Papa could help her, she was in Shadow's saddle, laughing. "Why don't we ride into the park? Squire Chilsey won't mind. And Tom and Lou are more confident now."

 

Papa looked dubious, but I said, "Please, Papa," and he gave in.

 

We set off, Grace riding beside Papa, me following, with Tom at the back.

 

In the park the grass was thick, still shining with dew. Every now and then we rode into the shade under the chestnut trees spreading their candles above us.

 

Suddenly Tom's voice was at my ear. "So, Miss Beaky, I suppose you think very highly of yourself. You're not afraid, eh?"

 

I pulled a face at him.

 

Chevalier dashed his head at Lady, who skittered sideways.

 

"Keep away, Tom. Remember what Grace said." I patted Lady.

 

"Oh, I can handle Chevalier. You're not the only one who knows how to ride," said Tom. He pulled hard on the reins.

 

Chevalier laid his ears back, rolled his eyes and lunged at Lady, nipping her neck. She shied and I lost my balance. The next minute I couldn't help screaming as Lady took off, galloping across the park.

 

Bumping up and down in the saddle, I clung to her mane, my teeth rattling. I shut my eyes but that was worse. I opened them again to see a high stone wall looming ahead of me. I hauled on the reins trying to make Lady turn. It was no use. We were at the wall. Lady's neck arched up in front of me, I clutched at her mane, missed, felt myself sliding back then falling, falling, sideways towards the ground that rushed to meet me.

 

***

 

"Louisa, Louisa!"

 

The voice seemed to come from far away. I opened my eyes. Papa's anxious face was bending over me.

 

I didn't want to move. Somewhere under me my wrist began to throb. "It hurts."

 

Papa gently raised me into a sitting position. He felt down my legs and arms. When he touched my wrist, I bit my lip hard to stop myself crying out.

 

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