Chapter 14

Life went on as heretofore and a few days later it was again the appointed time to visit Captain Holman’s stables at Manor Farm for Thomas’ riding lessons.

The child was now able to control his pony in the essentials; being able to start and halt his mount as well as turn it in whichever direction he pleased, although due to his small size he still needed to be bodily placed on and removed from the saddle. As for myself, the captain had kindly continued to give me instruction and I felt that I was becoming quite the accomplished horsewoman! I could now mount and dismount from a side saddle with great confidence. Further, on my last visit I had put Blackberry into a canter. This involved the mysteries of the ‘half-halt’ where the rider must hold the walking horse back for a single step, compelling it to throw its balance back on to the hind legs, whence it can be urged with rein, heel and cane to change its gait into the faster style. I found this form of progression very comfortable. It is much smoother than the trot and one has the satisfaction of travelling faster.

On our arrival Captain Holman greeted us in his usual friendly manner and escorted us to the stables. There, with the help of Harry the stable lad, he harnessed Blossom and Blackberry and his own favourite steed, a chestnut stallion named Merlin. While Harry helped Thomas onto his pony the captain assisted me into the saddle and mounted his own horse.

We novices cautiously urged our animals into an amble and guided them into the paddock, where we had received all our training to date. Harry walked alongside the pony and Captain Holman brought up the rear. The captain kept pace with Thomas’ pony for a while and expressed his pleasure with the child’s progress.

“You are doing very well, Tom,” he said. You are sitting up good and straight and are not holding the reins tightly which is a fault of many beginners. Now let me see you turn your pony away from me.”

Thomas pulled on the rein and Blossom wheeled to her left.

“Well done once more!” praised the captain. “You are getting to know your mount well. A light tug is all she needs. Some horses will need more but your pony is a wise animal. Harry,” he said to the lad. “Take him around a few more times and try varying the pace a little. Make sure he keeps his knees in; it is a common fault in the young’uns with their little legs.”

“Yes sir,” said Harry, touching his cap.

Captain Holman turned his attention to me. I smiled demurely.

He smiled in return. “Would you care to accompany me in a canter, Miss Greencliffe?” he asked.

“Very much so!” I replied.

He waited until I had made the proper actions to warn Blackberry that we were about to change pace, then kept level with me as I urged her into a canter. We sped along to my huge delight. The modern railway is unmatched for speed and convenience, and I had no love for the jolting and swaying of a horse-drawn carriage, but there was real pleasure and exhilaration in being in control of a majestic and powerful beast that was carrying one along at a great rate.

After a few minutes of this, in which we had circled the paddock twice, he waved to me to bring the horse back into a walk.

“Very well done, madam!” he said. “Do you think you might be prepared for a full gallop?”

I felt a twinge of nervousness, but pulled myself together. “I am willing to try if you think I am ready, captain,” I said.

“Excellent! Let us take the horses into the field.”

We had to return the horses through the gate, which was the only access to the paddock, and then I followed Captain Holman along a lane between hedges for a short distance, until we came out onto a field of some size. There was a number of horses scattered about, idly eating the long grass.

“Now, Miss Greencliffe, there is no great difficulty about the gallop. One does not go straight into it, but starts with the canter; once there, you urge your horse to go faster and yet faster until you are at the best speed the animal can make. The important thing is to grip the saddle horns firmly and to keep yourself upright and balanced.”

“I understand.”

“Very good! Follow me then.”

He put Merlin into a fast canter, then in order to demonstrate the principle increased his speed gradually. I followed on Strawberry. I urged her onwards with heel and cane and to my delight she responded, following the stallion closely. We went faster and faster; the ground rushing by under my horse’s hooves. The captain pulled back his mount a little and waved for me to take the lead. I galloped on by myself feeling an emotion balanced between fear and delight. As the boundary hedge approached I wheeled my horse and began to head back towards our starting point.

Effortlessly, as it seemed, the captain took Merlin into the lead and indicated that I should slow my steed. I pulled back gently on the reins and Blackberry slowed to a canter and then as I tugged a little more, came to a stop.

The captain looked pleased after our exertions. He obviously considered that my efforts were acceptable.

“You did very well, Miss Greencliffe,” he said. “Your posture was good and you had full control of your mount. You simply need further time on the horse to perfect your style.”

“You are very kind.”

“Not at all. Now I think we must return to the paddock and see how Thomas is getting on.”

We returned to the paddock where we re-joined Thomas, walking our horses on either side of the boy’s pony and talking to him. He responded prettily to our remarks. It seemed to me that the distraction of conversation would help his control of his mount as he would not over-concentrate.

In all, we completed rather more than two hours of practice that day until Captain Holman announced that we had spent sufficient time and must come in for tea.

The three of us walked our steeds back to the stables and I again accepted the captain’s assistance in dismounting. Harry was left to remove the harnesses and stable the animals.

Over tea, the captain praised the efforts of us both and told Thomas that he would undoubtedly make a fine horseman when he had grown a little more.

“In fact,” he said, “I am of the opinion that you both have sufficient skill and experience to join the meet of the West Norfolk Hunt which takes place in about a month’s time. The West Norfolk is one of the best established in the country, with records of its activities going back no less than three hundred years. You would not be able to keep up with the leaders at all stages, but it is common for hunt followers to take an easier route by road or lane rather than across the fields when the going is too rough. I believe that you would both see good sport and entertainment if you joined us.”

I thought it my duty to discuss the matter first with the child. “What is your opinion, Thomas?” I asked. “Would you like to hunt the fox on your pony?”

The boy considered briefly, then said, “Yes, Miss Catherine, I think I would.”

“Capital!” said Captain Holman. “I will ride home with you and ask Mr Uttridge’s permission.”

We finished our tea and began the journey home, the captain riding his horse alongside the brougham and addressing the occasional remark to us through the window. It was beginning to get dark so late in the year, but there was still some twilight when we arrived at the Hall. Mr Uttridge welcomed us in warmly and we all proceeded into the parlour.

After we were all settled, the captain outlined his plan of Thomas and I following the hunt. Mr Uttridge, in his usual accommodating style, made no difficulty, merely remarking that it might be better to keep the child at some distance from the kill if he should happen to be present. Captain Holman agreed with this and promised that the lad would have an escort at all times to keep him safe.

“The hunt is a great tradition of the English countryside,” observed the squire. “I was never more than an occasional participant myself, my interests lying somewhat elsewhere, but it is a fine and healthy sport and I would be delighted to see my son become an enthusiast.”

So the matter was settled, and we returned to the entrance hall to say goodbye to our visitor and wish him a safe journey home.

After dinner, I returned to my room but after the excitement of the day I found myself far too restless to settle down to reading a book or other sedentary occupation. I fretted for a time, but then decided as the evening was fine to take a turn in the grounds until I felt more composed. Accordingly, I donned my cloak, tripped down the stairs and quietly let myself out into the night.

The evening was cool, but not cold and I delighted in the fresh air and the light odour of dead leaves that rose from the ground. The quiet melancholy of autumn has always charmed me. I walked in a different direction from the path that led to the town so as to be in a more isolated region and alone with my thoughts and it was therefore a complete shock to me when a voice spoke:

“A very good evening to you, Miss Greencliffe. You are out rather late.”

I started, but collected myself as best I could.

“Good evening to you, Mr Mapes,” I returned. “I found that I could not compose myself, and so I have come for a walk to tire myself a little before retiring.”

“A most sensible stratagem. I myself am considering my sermon for the funeral of the unfortunate Miss Jarvis. The words did not come as easily as they might and as the evening is so fine, I decided to seek inspiration in nature.”

I saw that in my wanderings, I had come close to the church and been unfortunate enough to meet the vicar who had been concealed by a tree on my approach. I cursed inwardly that I must now exchange a few conventional remarks if I was not to be thought uncivil.

“It is indeed a fine evening,” I said. “The sky is clear and the moon quite large.”

“Indeed: we have a gibbous moon tonight. As you may know, we derive the term from the Latin word for hunchbacked.”

It seemed that I was due for another demonstration of his erudition. “An unhappy word for such a beautiful sight,” I suggested.

“Perhaps, but in that case you could perhaps consider that the term only applies to the northern latitudes; those nearer the equator see the moon differently.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. In the warmer climes, such as India, the crescent moon most often takes the form of a shallow bowl, and correspondingly the gibbous moon is occluded at the top or bottom rather than at one side and so an analogy with a hunchback would not be apposite.”

“I was not aware of that. It is most interesting to think that the inhabitants of other lands see even the moon differently from us,” I said.

“As a consequence, the poets of those regions often compare the crescent moon to a bowl or a ship. The famous Persian scribe Khalil Shirvani, for example, has given us this quatrain:

‘The moon is a silver dhow

unscrewed and cargoless

Sailing the endless dark

Waves tipped with stars’”

“You are very knowledgeable, Mr Mapes,” I said. “In its own way the verse is a lovely celebration of the beauties of that orb.”

Mapes gave me another one of his oily smiles, visible even in the half-darkness. “I agree with you, madam, although some of our modern poets have used less attractive similes. The poet Shelley for example compares the moon to a madwoman, writing of ‘a dying lady, lean and pale; who totters forth, wrapp’d in a gauzy veil.’”

“Well, I cannot deny that those words are powerfully evocative, even though they came from a diseased mind,” I admitted.

“Indeed, the life of Mr Shelley was notoriously scandalous. You may be aware that in his youth he eloped with a tavern-keeper’s daughter only to abandon her later when she was with child.”

He spoke almost with relish and I looked at him with distaste. “I must not distract you from your work, Mr Mapes,” I said. “I am sure that a man of your resources will soon find the words you seek.”

He bowed, perhaps ironically. “It is most kind of you to say so, madam. And I must not let the pleasure of conversation with you cause me to keep you standing in the chill of the evening. I will no doubt see you tomorrow at the funeral.”

“You will, sir. May I then wish you a good night.”

“Good night, Miss Greencliffe.”

I walked back to the Hall. The encounter had at least tamed my over-high spirits and I was able to retire to my bed at the usual time.