Lady Hathaway's House Party by Joan Smith

being here together was an accident. How fortunate she had come, for she very nearly had gone to Brighton instead, except that the Croziers hadn’t asked her.
    Belle placed little reliance on Oliver’s word that a fifty-five-year old lady would have a mount worth riding, but she was mistaken. Juno was a sweet goer—a large mare, as her name signified, but silk-mouthed and easily led. She was herself a stranger to Ashbourne but for one short visit, so it was for him to choose the path they would take. They went at a trot down past the home garden and into the meadows, at whose back a forest loomed. There was a bridle path through it, not a narrow little snake of a thing that required a trot, but a good wide galloping path, for Lady Hathaway didn’t keep such a mount as this for nothing.
    Oliver was in the lead, setting a good pace with his own Barb that he had brought with him, and Belle was close behind, disliking very much being in the rear at all, but the path was not wide enough for two horses to gallop. Two might canter, but a little more leeway was required for a gallop. It was a few miles long, and as they approached a clearing ahead, Oliver slowed down and finally stopped.
    “How is she?” he asked, glancing at Juno.
    “She’s great. I’ve been holding her back or we’d have overtaken you.”
    “Let her out, then. Shall we go to the right or left? Quite a good run to the right, but a few fences and a ditch to the left.”
    “Can she jump?”
    “Can a fish swim? I picked her out for Kay myself. Come on.” And they set off together to the left, flying through the grass and disturbing the grazing sheep, who pranced away, strange-looking sheep with black eyes and ears, some with their new lambs grazing beside them. The two mounts flew along, side by side, at too hot a pace for conversation. Over a fence, another fence and then a ditch without breaking stride. The Avondales had not often ridden together, but it was a sport enjoyed by each. The walks on horseback through Hyde Park were not considered riding at all by them, and other than the two house parties to which they had taken their own mounts, this was their first ride together, and the best. After a good long gallop they came to the border of the next farm, where a meandering river too wide for jumping stopped them.
    “Do you want to wade across, or shall we go back?” he asked. “That’s Dufferin’s place, but they don’t mind if you trespass. Kay does.”
    “Let’s cross.”
    Oliver took the lead, but the river was swollen with the spring rains, and when his boots began to hit water, he turned back. “I think it’s too deep for you.”
    She disliked the inference that it was herself holding them back, but on the other hand had no desire to wet her habit either, and turned reluctantly around.
    “Let’s dismount and walk a little,” he suggested. ‘‘It’s awfully pretty here.”
    He hopped down and hastened to her side to help her descend, but she was on the ground before he got to her.
    “Lack of polish again, Oliver,” she said, laughing. He had often chided her for this hoydenish trick in their courting days.
    “I didn’t say so,” he pointed out, unhappy to have his strictures thrown back in his face at this auspicious moment when he had her alone. And she was in a good mood too, pleased with her ride.
    “No, I beat you to it this time. I wish we could drink that water. I’m parched,” she said, panting, for the pace had been fast. She took off her riding hat and fanned herself with its brim, while Oliver cursed himself for not having brought along champagne. Today she would have welcomed it.
    “Are you not used to riding?”
    “Yes, but not such a good gallop as this. I think it’s time to retire my old Buttles. He is getting on. Really, riding Juno has decided me to get a better hack.”
    Oliver was surprised to hear she still rode her aging Buttles, but happy as he had plans along those lines to present to her. “There