“I’ll send a boy and she’ll be there in an hour or so.”
Colin walked the horse back to Arbor House. When he arrived, he took it around to the stables, discovering that Grimble had already come back from the village to care for the carriage horses.
“I’ll wash him down,” Grimble said, eyeing the animal with a dubious expression. “He does have nice flanks for all he’s too thin, and an excellent fetlock. It might be that you can sell him for a pretty penny once he’s cleaned up, and those wounds have healed.” He carefully felt the horse’s shoulder while Colin held the reins tight. “Nothing broken. He’s a lucky fellow.”
“I’ll groom him,” Colin said, backing the horse into a stall. “You deal with the other horses, Grimble.”
Then Colin leaned against the half door and waited. Long minutes passed before the horse looked up.
“You’re a mess,” Colin said conversationally, making no move to touch him. “You’re covered with sweat and dirt, there’s dried blood on your right shoulder, your mane looks as if a bird shat in it, and even your eyelashes are tangled.”
The horse lowered his head again, his head hanging so low that his nose touched the straw. Colin fetched a bucket of oats, but the moment he put an arm over the door to pour it in his trough, the horse’s head whipped up and he reared straight into the air.
Colin ignored him and poured the oats. “You look as if you’re trying to fly,” he told the animal. “I believe I’ll name you after my former ship, the Daedalus . The ship was named after a Greek man who flew too close to the sun for comfort, but made it back to earth.”
The horse ignored him. He had all four hooves on the floor again, his sides heaving, a fresh coating of dark sweat on his neck. After a good four minutes, Daedalus lowered his head and began to eat.
“Grimble!” Colin called. “I’ve given him a name: Daedalus.”
“That’s a fancy one, sir,” Grimble said, coming to stand at his side. “Foreign-like, isn’t it? Shall we tie him close and I’ll wash him down?”
Colin shook his head. “I don’t think there’s much chance of infection since the wound closed so quickly. We’ll leave him for the night, Grimble.”
“It don’t seat right with me,” the coachman said, staring at the horse. “Leaving a good horse in that condition.”
“He doesn’t care about dirt as much as he cares about not being struck again. Perhaps tomorrow. For now, let’s just let him get used to us. Bring him some hay and mash, will you?”
He stood at the door for a few more minutes before telling Daedalus that he had to find his wife. The horse’s ears twitched, although he didn’t look up. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. And the morning after that. And no one will hit you ever again.”
The horse lipped his oats, weary with fear and pain.
Colin walked back to the house, thinking about parallels that were too obvious to be ignored.
Mrs. Busbee was already in the house. She had made tea and was scrubbing the kitchen. She was disturbed by Colin’s refusal to allow servants to stay in the house at night. But finally she laid out supper in the kitchen, and promised to return the following morning with some women to help her do a thorough cleaning.
“Though how you’ll get along by yourselves, I don’t know,” she told him. “It isn’t natural having Quality doing as such by themselves.”
Colin just smiled. Once she left, he brought a silver tray down to the lakeshore and served tea.
And then he seduced his wife under the shade of the willow.
Afterward, Grace lay on the grass, her head on Colin’s leg, and watched the late afternoon sun cast shadows of thin spears over his dark limbs and her pale ones. In her opinion, it wasn’t possible to be any happier than this.
That was before supper.
Colin put aside his plate after they finished Mrs. Busbee’s pie. Then he took out a sheaf of paper.
“What is that?” Grace asked, made
Colin walked the horse back to Arbor House. When he arrived, he took it around to the stables, discovering that Grimble had already come back from the village to care for the carriage horses.
“I’ll wash him down,” Grimble said, eyeing the animal with a dubious expression. “He does have nice flanks for all he’s too thin, and an excellent fetlock. It might be that you can sell him for a pretty penny once he’s cleaned up, and those wounds have healed.” He carefully felt the horse’s shoulder while Colin held the reins tight. “Nothing broken. He’s a lucky fellow.”
“I’ll groom him,” Colin said, backing the horse into a stall. “You deal with the other horses, Grimble.”
Then Colin leaned against the half door and waited. Long minutes passed before the horse looked up.
“You’re a mess,” Colin said conversationally, making no move to touch him. “You’re covered with sweat and dirt, there’s dried blood on your right shoulder, your mane looks as if a bird shat in it, and even your eyelashes are tangled.”
The horse lowered his head again, his head hanging so low that his nose touched the straw. Colin fetched a bucket of oats, but the moment he put an arm over the door to pour it in his trough, the horse’s head whipped up and he reared straight into the air.
Colin ignored him and poured the oats. “You look as if you’re trying to fly,” he told the animal. “I believe I’ll name you after my former ship, the Daedalus . The ship was named after a Greek man who flew too close to the sun for comfort, but made it back to earth.”
The horse ignored him. He had all four hooves on the floor again, his sides heaving, a fresh coating of dark sweat on his neck. After a good four minutes, Daedalus lowered his head and began to eat.
“Grimble!” Colin called. “I’ve given him a name: Daedalus.”
“That’s a fancy one, sir,” Grimble said, coming to stand at his side. “Foreign-like, isn’t it? Shall we tie him close and I’ll wash him down?”
Colin shook his head. “I don’t think there’s much chance of infection since the wound closed so quickly. We’ll leave him for the night, Grimble.”
“It don’t seat right with me,” the coachman said, staring at the horse. “Leaving a good horse in that condition.”
“He doesn’t care about dirt as much as he cares about not being struck again. Perhaps tomorrow. For now, let’s just let him get used to us. Bring him some hay and mash, will you?”
He stood at the door for a few more minutes before telling Daedalus that he had to find his wife. The horse’s ears twitched, although he didn’t look up. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. And the morning after that. And no one will hit you ever again.”
The horse lipped his oats, weary with fear and pain.
Colin walked back to the house, thinking about parallels that were too obvious to be ignored.
Mrs. Busbee was already in the house. She had made tea and was scrubbing the kitchen. She was disturbed by Colin’s refusal to allow servants to stay in the house at night. But finally she laid out supper in the kitchen, and promised to return the following morning with some women to help her do a thorough cleaning.
“Though how you’ll get along by yourselves, I don’t know,” she told him. “It isn’t natural having Quality doing as such by themselves.”
Colin just smiled. Once she left, he brought a silver tray down to the lakeshore and served tea.
And then he seduced his wife under the shade of the willow.
Afterward, Grace lay on the grass, her head on Colin’s leg, and watched the late afternoon sun cast shadows of thin spears over his dark limbs and her pale ones. In her opinion, it wasn’t possible to be any happier than this.
That was before supper.
Colin put aside his plate after they finished Mrs. Busbee’s pie. Then he took out a sheaf of paper.
“What is that?” Grace asked, made
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