victoria hinshaw

Miss Parker's Ponies

      "Oh, come look! I think they are here."

      Her cheeks rosy with excitement, blue eyes shining, Miss Caroline Parker rushed into the spacious drawing room of Sunnyslope's grand mansion. As usual, Caro was completely unmindful of her golden hair tumbling free of her half-tied ribbons. Nor did a sense of proper deportment curb her rush to reach the tall Palladian window overlooking the pebbled drive.

      "Hurry, Isabel," Caroline called to her cousin. "They have finally arrived.

      "At last. It is too exciting!"

      "Later than I expected." Caroline peered intently at the three men bringing their horses to a stop outside the pillared portico. The riders wore heavy coats against the chill of the February day. One was her cousin Lord Edward Mortimer, at twenty considered by both Caroline and his sister Isabel to be an utter scapegrace, albeit dearly loved. The other two were strangers, though clearly clad in the fashion of gentlemen of substance.

      Her brown eyes gleaming, Isabel pressed Caroline's hand. "Is everything ready?"

      Caroline accorded her a conspiratorial grin. "Yes. Ned and his friends will have quite a surprise." Her laughter bubbled up as lightly as tinkling bells when she visualized the approaching scene.

      "You have to change. Should you not hurry?" Isabel asked.

      Caroline's eyes were fastened on the wide shoulders and lean build of one stranger as he swung down from his saddle. He stroked the neck of his mount, a tall and rangy bay, before he handed the reins to a groom. Doffing his hat, the young man ran his fingers through his russet brown hair, leaving it tousled and wavy, then turned his attention to brushing the road dust from his shoulders. When he moved to speak to the others, Caroline noticed a slight limp to his gait. He definitely favored his right leg.

      Caroline immediately guessed his identity. "Ned got the Ogden brothers to come! The taller one has a limp."

      Isabel concurred. "Then he must be Thomas Ogden. He is wickedly handsome, just as Ned promised. Now I believe those stories Ned told about Captain Ogden's escapades."

      "Do not be wig-witted. He looks quite ordinary to me." Caroline dared not admit Captain Ogden was disturbingly like the debonair heroes of several recent novels, his forehead noble, his features perfectly chiseled, his bearing fittingly patrician. Even his expression carried the hint of a darkly sardonic temperament. Or was this just her imagination?

      "I find him excessively good-looking," Isabel declared.

      "I suppose some might find him attractive. And he no doubt knows it." She recalled Ned's boasts of his friendship with the elder Ogden brother. Sadly, she thought, those tales had more to do with the captain's exploits at London gaming tables than with his service to the crown.

      Isabel could not contain her enthusiasm. "This is perfect! Ned says Captain Ogden is quite the rakehell, the ideal buyer for his team of blacks."

       Mention of the horses brought Caroline's attention back to their plans. "Ned will be beside himself when we're finished with him, absolutely mad with rage."

      Something he heard outside brought Thomas Ogden a smile, a rather raffish smile, Caroline noted. That one would have few lonesome moments, with that crooked grin at the ready. She was not so green that she lacked an understanding of how the ladies of London might comfort a hero home from the Peninsular Wars.

      Instead of running to greet the party, Caro and Isabel stayed out of sight as the men entered the foyer, met by Plummer, Sunnyslope's capable if long-suffering butler.

      "Your father is not at home this morning, milord. But perhaps you and your guests would have coffee in the breakfast room..."

      Ned interrupted the butler, his voice quivering in his anticipation of exhibiting the team. "Yes, Plummer. Coffee for Captain Thomas Ogden and Mr. Simon Ogden. And don't disturb Mother yet. Tell the stables we will see the pair at eleven."

      The clock had just chimed ten. Caroline had plenty of time to prepare for the delicious caper she and Isabel planned.

      "Is everything ready?" Isabel whispered, for the second time.

      "Yes. Everything. We are sure to have great success."

      "Ned will never be able to top this!" Isabel wore a mischievous smile.

      Another thrill of excitement tickled Caroline's spine, and she suppressed a giggle as she imagined dear old Ned's reaction. She rubbed her hands together, trying to picture the look of astonishment on his face when their prank began.

      Leaving Isabel to collect her little brother Henry and sister Becky, fellow conspirators in harassing their elder brother, Caroline skipped up the stairway, hurrying toward her room.

      "Miss Caroline," the housekeeper called. "Lady Barstow asks you to attend her in the sitting room."

      "Now? I was about to . . ."

      "There has been a letter from your mother, I believe," Mrs. Wood interrupted.

      At once, Caroline dashed to Aunt Letitia. How she missed her dear mother so far away in Sweden. She prayed the letter forecast a visit from Lady Clarissa Parker very soon. But when she entered the sitting room, she was thoroughly puzzled by Aunt Letitia's look of acute distress.

      Fanning herself with a rumpled lace hankie, the plump and lovable Countess of Barstow reclined on a velvet couch, biting her lip and frowning. She waved Caroline to a seat, held up the letter and said in a trembling voice, "Your mama will arrive any day now."

      "Wonderful! I have not seen her in almost a year." Caroline found no one more beautifully petite, accomplished, and adorable as her darling mama. Caroline had pleaded to accompany her back to the Swedish royal capital when their mourning period ended for Sir Quentin, but Lady Clarissa would not hear of it. She had promised the British ambassador she would continue her duties as hostess for the embassy just as she had when her husband was alive. Caroline had remained with her cousins here at Sunnyslope, the family home of Clarissa's own youth.

      "So very disappointing," Lady Barstow said, sniffing. "I fear I have sadly let her down."

      "I do not understand."

      "She is coming to prepare you to go to London in April, for the season, and I know she will expect..."

      "The season!" Caroline exclaimed. "I thought we all agreed that Isabel and I would have our come-outs together some day." Caroline's eagerness to see her mother was suddenly a bit clouded.

      "Your mama is quite insistent. She wants you to make your curtsey this year. Your Aunt Augusta has agreed to assist."

      "Oh no." Caroline dreaded any contact with Lady Augusta Stolper, her mother's elder sister. Despite the fact Aunt Letitia's husband Jeremy Mortimer, Earl of Barstow, was the formal head of the family, Aunt Augusta had long ruled with her haughty and overbearing ways. "Why would Mama do this to us?"

      "I declare I cannot comprehend. And you are distressingly ill prepared, my dear. Your mama will think me a complete cabbage head for the way I have neglected your instruction. Your music, your French, your needlework. I have let you set them all aside."

      "Let me ring for some tea, Aunt Letitia. You look thoroughly overset." As she carried out her task, Caroline considered her lack of preparation and knew the fault was hers alone. Aunt Letitia was correct. Caroline was certainly not prepared to enter society on any level at all, much less be presented at Court.

      Aunt Letitia continued to dither. "Augusta will say I have woefully botched my responsibilities. She will complain to Jeremy, poor man. I have heard her accusations before, letting the family down and all that. And she calls me 'that goose you married.'" Letitia's tears flowed freely. "Where has the time gone, with no dancing instructor or piano master? You will make a cake of yourself, and Augusta will blame everything on me."

      "We have to change Mama's mind. There is no need for me to have a season this year."

      "Oh, dear," Letitia wailed. "I fear she is quite determined." She held the letter out to Caroline, who took it and sank onto the window seat to read.

      When she finished, Caroline gazed out of the window sadly. Was she ready to give up her youth, to lose the independence of life here at Sunnyslope? Her easygoing years with the Earl and Countess of Barstow were the opposite of her life as a young child. Almost from birth Caroline traveled to the diplomatic capitals of Europe with her parents. At age ten, she came to Sunnyslope to benefit from the wholesome Berkshire countryside, just as her mother had as a child. As strange as the ways of the Mortimer family seemed at first, soon she loved Sunnyslope. Now, this new plan meant the end of her freedom to train her ponies, to drive over the estate without a groom, to picnic with her cousins beside the river after escaping their feckless governess.

      Aunt Letitia sighed mournfully. "Come and pour the tea, dear. I declare I am too trembly to do a thing."

      Caroline acted automatically, her mind far away as she handed a brimming cup to her aunt.

      "Caroline, look at your hands. Your nails are all torn and ragged."

      Caroline nodded, her dismal thoughts transcending mere fingernails. Having a season was just the beginning. Mama not only intended to bring her out; Lady Clarissa fully expected to see her daughter wed this very year. "It is time for Caroline to be settled," Mama wrote.

      The thought was enough to make Caroline run off to the colonies. Who cared about chapped hands with a whole lifetime at stake? A husband, indeed! She had no experience of men other than family. Marriage was something to think of in the future, not now while she so treasured her independence.

      "I think you have done no more than a tiny corner of your sampler," Aunt Letitia moaned.

      If she was not facing the prospect of utter doom, Caroline might be sympathetic to her aunt's complaints. Lady Barstow had never wielded much control of her household, especially where her high-spirited offspring were concerned, and Caroline learned to fit into the family pattern in the eight years she lived with her cousins.

      "We have to change her mind, that is all. I simply refuse to go to London for the season, and I certainly do not plan to marry anybody. At least not in the near future."

      Caroline's expression of defiance brought new moans from her aunt. "What have I done to deserve this? None of my children are obedient and respectful, not even you, Caroline, who should have learned better from your mother."

      "Please do not cry, Aunt Letitia. We must concentrate on changing Mama's mind." But even as she spoke, Caroline felt the hopelessness of the task. In her much more graceful way, Clarissa showed every bit of the determination and strength of backbone as the imperious Augusta. Together, they would be invincible. Aunt Letitia would be of no help whatsoever.

      Caroline's mood of merry anticipation disappeared, but for the sake of Isabel, Henry and Becky, she had better go change. Later she would figure a way out, or she would end up wed to some pompous sapskull chosen by her Aunt Augusta.

      "Do hope these nags are worth the time," Thomas Ogden drawled, a teasing undertone in his voice. He leaned back in his chair and flicked an imaginary speck of dust from the sleeve of his perfectly tailored coat of dark blue superfine. The two younger men across the table from him were too excited to present the cool and polished facade of London gentlemen, and Thomas was rather amused.

      "Think of what you could wager on them." Simon wavered between the eagerness of his friend Ned and the detachment of his brother, Thomas.

      Ned nearly burst to show off his blacks. "Worth plenty of guineas to a fellow challengin' every comer on the Brighton road. You could match your income at cards, Tom."

      Thomas shrugged and sipped his coffee. He really was not interested in the horses. This brief visit to Sunnyslope was merely a convenient stop on his journey to accommodate an urgent summons from his mother. But he wanted to indulge Ned and Simon. After all, they held him in some degree of awe, due primarily to Thomas's many successes at London gaming tables, not to mention his record in the war. The debilities left from his wounds gave a slight weakness to his leg which, with his dark good looks, caused him to receive fawning attention from the muslin set. In the eyes of Ned and Simon, such regard was particularly enviable. They would learn differently someday, Thomas supposed, once the two young sprigs had another year or two of polish.

      "Difficult, don't you know, to find a truly black pair." Ned nervously smoothed his saffron striped waistcoat. "Their color is splendid, quite exceptional."

      Thomas nodded, his mind far away. Strange that his mother should send for him so soon after Christmas and with the February roads so chancy. Anger at some stray gossip about him must be Lady Elizabeth's reason for requiring his presence. But no sense in worrying. He had a full day's ride before he had to face her and attend to her wrath.

      "Speedy and flashy goers too, spanking fine!" Ned rubbed his hands together in his impatience. "They'll be 'round in front at eleven sharp, the finest cattle in five counties!"

      Ned's father, the Earl of Barstow, bred fine horses of matchless quality. Thomas knew Ned was anxious to carry on the family tradition, to show off his pair as the pride of his father's stud. Several fellows of his acquaintance in town were likely buyers, Thomas mused. He'd see that Ned's treasures found an appropriate home.

      By eleven, Ned had nearly jumped out of his skin in anticipation of the impending exhibition. The instant the clock finally chimed, he immediately pushed back his chair and started down the hall. Thomas could not help chuckling. Ned's stiff collar points stabbed his cheeks as he tried to turn and talk to them. But apparently no discomfort so minor could stop his constant flow of words.

      "Both sire and dam are descended from the Darley Arabian...." How many times had Ned reiterated the bloodlines, Thomas wondered.

      "...The sire was a winner at Newmarket three years in a row, and both dams were daughters of highly regarded studs...."

      When they reached the broad portico overlooking the spacious park and circular gravel drive, Thomas shielded his eyes from the bright sky of the crisp and windy afternoon. From the rear of the house, he heard hooves crunching on the gravel. Ned clasped his hands together fervently and poked Thomas with his elbow, unable to resist one more boast. "Just you see now, they're simply top o' the trees."

      Thomas watched as the pair raced around the corner at a full gallop. Sunlight glinted on ebony coats and shining black harness. Bits of gravel flying beneath their feet, they circled the drive at breakneck speed, driven by a young groom in maroon livery.

      But instead of invoking a properly admiring phrase, Thomas found himself smothering a howl of laughter. He blinked twice and looked again. What he saw was a team of ponies! The fleet-footed pair skimming the gravel could not have been more than half-size, however perfect in every other way. The curricle was a miniature and even the top-hatted driver seemed a diminutive as the handsome equipage flew around the grassy verge and fountain.

      At first Thomas thought the joke was on him, but a quick glance at Ned revealed total astonishment on his face. This tiny team's arrival must be a complete surprise.

      "Those damnable little nags," Ned sputtered.

      Simon was open-mouthed in surprise and amazement. "By Jupiter! What kind of caper-wits do you take us for?"

      "I say, Ned. Your wretched cattle seem to have shrunk!" Thomas strove to maintain a semblance of composure.

      Ned's face burned crimson with fury, and he shook his fist as he watched the ponies sprint past on yet another circuit of the drive. No longer able to preserve their aplomb, Thomas and Simon broke out in great whoops of laughter at the bizarre scene.

      The tiny team was as fine as any Thomas had ever seen, simply half as large. They certainly had fire and spirit, and the entire rig looked perfect in every regard except stature.

       Abruptly Ned leaped down the steps and recklessly jumped into the path of the onrushing team, howling his rage and humiliation. Startled, Thomas lunged after him, sure the galloping pair would crush Ned. But, with great skill, the driver swerved the team and avoided both the fist-shaking young man and his would-be savior. In a spray of pebbles, the team of ponies swooped away and disappeared again behind the house.

      Thomas laughed, at first in relief, then at the face before him. Purple with rage, Ned seemed oblivious to his close brush with disaster. His angry muttering was drowned out by Simon's cries of merriment, and Thomas doubled over in roars of elation. Ned mumbled something about his cousin, but both Ogdens were too weak with laughter to listen.

      "Handsome cattle indeed," Simon said, giving Ned a cuff on the shoulder.

      "Just the thing for racing in Hampstead," Thomas agreed.

      "We'll challenge every nob in London," Simon went on.

      Ned looked mortified, hardly appreciative of the Ogden brothers' amusement.

      Thomas struggled to find his voice. "Highly divertin' exhibition, Ned."

      Before Ned could speak, another team came into view, this time a splendid pair of tall and fiery blacks, as so long promised. Ned's expression changed instantly from a mixture of anger and humiliation to good cheer. "Here they are! I told you they were prime."

      Thomas, stomach aching from laughter, could only agree. "Prime as they are, the first pair would make the bigger splash in the park."

      But Ned was too busy pointing out the finer points of his blacks' conformation and bragging about their action to discuss the pony team. His consequence somewhat restored, Ned motioned the driver to stop the team. "Here, have a turn," he said, offering the reins to Thomas.

      Carefully Thomas pulled himself up to replace the lanky tiger on the curricle seat and set the blacks at a trot down the driveway, leaving Simon to join Ned in rhapsodizing over the horses. Thomas laughed again to himself. Someone had pulled a fine and proper joke on Ned. Halfway to the estate's gate, he turned the team and returned up the drive to the house.

      "Your turn," he said to Simon as he alit from the curricle. Ned's steady stream of chatter continued as the two younger men climbed aboard and set off down the drive.

      Thomas was more curious about the ponies than he was interested in the horses. It was not often one saw such finely turned out ponies, with all the action and dash of full size teams. Other than his childhood pet at Pemstead, a gentle roan too fat for more than ambling, Thomas had little contact with the miniature equines. Leaning only a bit on his walking stick, he headed to the stables for a closer look.

      As he skirted the kitchen garden, he heard laughter from the direction of the stables. So the servants found Ned's embarrassment a point of merriment. Apparently a cheeky crew! From the sound of girlish giggles, even the kitchen maids enjoyed the joke.

      Perched on the miniature curricle, Caroline untangled the reins again for her young cousin Henry.

      "We are almost finished cooling the ponies," she said. "So turn them around and head back to the stable. Gently, now." She reached up to tuck a few stray ringlets back under her hat. You could never tell who might be looking out of the upstairs windows of the big house, and she certainly did not want to cause inquiries. Better to appear some anonymous groom in the estate livery.

      "When you have built your confidence, you will be a top whip. Just pay attention to the ponies."

      "I did not expect driving to be so difficult."

      Caroline grinned. "You have to be patient and practice. You can drive the cool-off again tomorrow if you wish."

      For over a year, Caroline's training sessions with two teams of ponies was her first priority. She took pride in her accomplishments, even if the first real showing took place before strangers as part of a practical joke. Now she needed to get this particular team unhitched and her clothes changed before Uncle Jeremy saw her. He understood, even encouraged her pony training, but if he saw her dressed in estate livery . . .

      Caroline looked toward the stable yard. "The girls are waiting for us. I hope they found a place to see everything."

      Henry sat up a mite straighter. "Isabel would not have missed old Ned's fits for anything."

      Isabel and Becky waved to them from the end of the long lane between the stables and sheds. Isabel was already a willowy young woman, taller than Caroline though two years younger. Rebecca, at eight, was the baby of the family, chubby and adorable, with a sweet disposition to match. Now their faces showed triumph and eagerness to relive the moment of victory.

      "You are doing fine," Caroline said to Henry. "Keep them at a steady pace."

      This particular pair of ponies, Oberon and Titania, was born of the two mares she so carefully chose when she first decided to spend her annual allowance on horses. Or rather, on ponies, for Uncle Jeremy found her original idea of owning and breeding horses much too unladylike. Ponies somehow met with his approval, and now she had six in all.

      When they reached his sisters, Henry stopped the ponies with an exaggerated "Whoa."

      "We were peeking out the window," Isabel said, "and Ned's face got so red, I thought he was choking."

      Becky's big grin confirmed her glee. "He must be angry with us."

      Henry carefully climbed down from the curricle, then held the ponies' heads.

      Isabel continued. "Captain Ogden and his brother were laughing excessively."

      "Both of them are very handsome," Becky said.

      "I am afraid I did not notice." Caroline did not tell the whole truth. She had heard Captain Ogden laughing, in a deep baritone voice that made her toes wiggle.

      Caroline went to Oberon's head and scratched his ears as the groom Will unhitched the rig. "Good fella'," she murmured as the pony leaned into her touch.

      Isabel followed, her voice a whisper to avoid the ears of Henry and Becky. "Of course, Simon Ogden is terribly immature, just like Ned. But the Captain is ever so experienced, quite the dashing rakehell, Ned says. I wonder if he has a mistress."

      Caroline feigned disinterest. "What do you know about such things? Nonsense, Isabel. I never heard anything so silly."

      "Who is silly?" Henry asked.

      "Why are you whispering?" Becky was indignant at being left out of the conversation.

      "We were laughing about how furious Ned was," Isabel said.

      They all four joined hands and laughed together.

      Thomas followed the sounds of laughter to the rear of the house. As he rounded the corner to the stable yard, his mouth dropped open in surprise.

      An unlikely assortment of personages clustered around the ponies and miniature curricle. The liveried driver embraced a young lady of about sixteen years, her dress clearly signaling that she was a Mortimer daughter, not a servant. Beside them was an appealing little girl with a rabbit fur muff. A young man, little more than a child really, frolicked about them singing, "Old Ned, lead head."

      What kind of a bumblebroth was this? Poor Ned, if he had to live in the middle of such mismanaged chaos.

      The burly groom unhitching the curricle shook his head and spoke without listeners. "Don' know what the master will say. Such nonsense 'll be trouble, 'tis for certain sure."

      The driver detached himself from the taller girl. "Do not trouble yourself, Will. I shall take care no repercussions fall upon you or the other hands."

      Then, to Thomas' utter amazement, the driver doffed the hat to reveal a knot of honey blond curls. Despite the snug breeches and brass-buttoned livery jacket, he saw the driver was a female, a quite lovely young woman with a wide smile and pink cheeks. As she shook her head, her golden curls cascaded down and loose.

      Thomas grinned to himself. The caper was a family escapade, not a case of misbehaving help. Quite an amusing little incident to tease a brother with, he thought. Perhaps even good for some familial extortion at the right moments. Years ago, he and his own brothers searched their youthful brains for methods of ridiculing one another, but they never came up with anything quite this elaborate. He took a few steps nearer their circle.

      "Your skill with the ribbons is most impressive," Thomas said to the driver. His smile widened at the amazement on all their faces when they noticed his presence. "I am Thomas Ogden, brother of Ned's classmate Simon." He thought a slight blush deepened on the young lady's rosy cheeks as she lifted her sky blue eyes to his. Astonishingly pretty, he thought, though quite obviously chagrined at his presence. As a few more curls trailed down from her topknot to fan across her face, a slight frown creased her forehead.

      The smallest girl bounced up to perform the introductions. "I am Becky Mortimer, Captain Ogden. Pleased to make your acquaintance. This is my brother Henry, my sister Isabel and my cousin Caroline Parker." Her words accompanied a wave at the young lady driver.

      "Nicely said," Thomas observed. "Those are very fine ponies, if not quite what your brother was expecting to show off."

      "Old Ned is much too high in the instep now that he is supposed to be at Oxford," Henry said. "Caroline thought we could give him a proper set-down."

      "I would say Miss Parker is successful in her efforts," Thomas replied, turning to look at the erstwhile driver. She met his gaze with a barely suppressed grin, her enormous blue eyes bright with mischief.

      "Caroline is a dab hand with ponies," Henry went on.

      "And so fetchingly costumed." Thomas looked directly at her breeches, smoothly molded to her legs and slender hips, which made an eye-filling display. "I am gratified to find all the scenery here at Sunnyslope presents a most pleasing vista."

      Caroline sniffed at his remark and turned abruptly to help the groom unharness the ponies. She knew her cheeks were burning in humiliation. Whatever she wore, he had colossal nerve making such a tasteless remark. Pointedly ignoring Thomas, she softly crooned her praise to the handsome creatures as she worked.

      "Caroline trained the ponies herself," Becky chirped.

      "A most excellent avocation," the Captain said. "Though unique, even for a country miss. Quite as unusual as your ensemble." He finished with a bow to Caroline.

      With an attempt at perfect dignity, Caroline walked into the tack room and closed the door. She felt thoroughly humiliated. Ned bragged for months about his friendship with London's most accomplished rakes. How could she find this one so very handsome at the very same time he scrutinized her legs? Why, his eyes had unmistakably been fixed upon her bottom. No indeed, she had not missed that look, not quite a leer, but certainly not the way a gentleman should admire a lady. Her fingers shook as she unfastened the livery coat and vest, turning to contemplate herself in the looking glass, placed for her use after sessions with the ponies.

      Her face flamed in embarrassment at her reflection. The breeches and knee stockings hugged her like a second skin.

      Good Lord, no wonder he had stared!

      Quickly she changed into her morning gown of pale lavender muslin and hung away the livery. She refused to be intimidated by the way he had ogled her. A true gentleman would not have noticed her legs at all. When she heard the voices of Ned and Simon returning, Caroline swiftly left the stable and hurried to the house the roundabout way through the orchard. One thing for sure, she would keep well out of the way for the remainder of Captain Thomas Ogden's visit. He would leave tomorrow morning, thank heavens.