likes very few. If she said she’s coming back to see you, she will.”
He didn’t understand my dejection, my haunting conviction that everyone was destined to leave me, one way or another. I couldn’t believe Émilienne would come back, because if she didn’t, it would crush me. I plunged into my work, walking around with a scowl as the scent of her faded from everything she had touched. Balsan took note of my mood. He kept away from my bed, busy with his horses, until I could not abide myself anymore and emerged one morning to stalk up to him as he spoke with his grooms.
“I want to learn to ride today,” I announced.
He regarded me. “Like that?”
I bristled at once, my nerves rubbed by his sardonic air, by the complacency he seemed to exude at all times, though not long ago I had admired it. “Yes. Like this. Is there a problem?”
He passed his gaze over me. I wore a short jacket over a simple blouse, a skirt, and boots, my wide boater placed squarely on my head.
“You’ll have to learn sidesaddle,” he said.
“Fine.” I strode into the stables as he instructed a groom to prepare the mare. Getting onto the beast proved more difficult than I had thought. Though I used the mounting block that Balsan set before me, my skirt wasn’t wide enough to hike as high as I needed it to go without exposing my thighs. Once I settled precariously upon the saddle and had been shown how to set my foot in the stirrup, using my other leg for balance, I felt utterly ridiculous.
“Hold fast to the reins but not so tight that you cut her mouth,” Balsan told me. “We’ll go slowly at first.”
I wanted to tell him I didn’t need coddling, but as the mare lurched forward, following Balsan astride his prize gelding, I swayed like a sack of flour. I had never felt so ungainly or imperiled in my life. The ground seemed miles below me. It didn’t help that as I grappled with the reins, the mare snorted and swiveled her great head to try to nip me.
We rode around the newly fenced-in meadow. It was hardly more than a short excursion but by the time we returned to the stables, I was soaked in sweat, chafed about my buttocks, and thoroughly disgusted with myself.
“There. That wasn’t so bad,” Balsan said as he helped me to dismount, no doubt relieved that I had shown some initiative and not spent another day indoors moping and filling my room to the rafters with more hats. “Tomorrow, you’ll do better.”
With a glare, I marched back into the château. I certainly would. I would not accept anything less. But not like this. If I was going to ride, I must have the use of both my legs, not be relegated to perching atop the mare like a figurine on a cake.
Rummaging through his closet in his room—where I almost never ventured—I searched his attire for something suitable I could use to make a riding outfit. He had more clothes than anyone else I had known, hundreds of jackets and waistcoats, trousers and shirts, though he was not vain. Rather, his limitless wealth allowed him to acquire as he pleased, and mostof what he bought he never wore. Once I located a slightly frayed pair of his jodhpurs, I returned to my room and went to work. It took the rest of the day and most of the night, but when I arrived at the stables the next morning he took one look at me and laughed, “Coco, you really go too far!”
I ignored his mirth and the wide-eyed stares of his hired help. With my new jodhpurs fitted to my figure and a wide-brimmed felt hat, I clambered onto the mare with ease. Sitting astride, I took up the reins and said to a still-grinning Balsan, “ Now, I’ll do better.”
And so I did. I spent the next weeks riding every day, until the improvised jodhpurs began to wear in the seat and I could gallop without my heart in my throat. When Balsan informed me that he planned another of his gatherings for the upcoming weekend, it bolstered my confidence. I went to Compiègne where he kept a tailor on account, to
He didn’t understand my dejection, my haunting conviction that everyone was destined to leave me, one way or another. I couldn’t believe Émilienne would come back, because if she didn’t, it would crush me. I plunged into my work, walking around with a scowl as the scent of her faded from everything she had touched. Balsan took note of my mood. He kept away from my bed, busy with his horses, until I could not abide myself anymore and emerged one morning to stalk up to him as he spoke with his grooms.
“I want to learn to ride today,” I announced.
He regarded me. “Like that?”
I bristled at once, my nerves rubbed by his sardonic air, by the complacency he seemed to exude at all times, though not long ago I had admired it. “Yes. Like this. Is there a problem?”
He passed his gaze over me. I wore a short jacket over a simple blouse, a skirt, and boots, my wide boater placed squarely on my head.
“You’ll have to learn sidesaddle,” he said.
“Fine.” I strode into the stables as he instructed a groom to prepare the mare. Getting onto the beast proved more difficult than I had thought. Though I used the mounting block that Balsan set before me, my skirt wasn’t wide enough to hike as high as I needed it to go without exposing my thighs. Once I settled precariously upon the saddle and had been shown how to set my foot in the stirrup, using my other leg for balance, I felt utterly ridiculous.
“Hold fast to the reins but not so tight that you cut her mouth,” Balsan told me. “We’ll go slowly at first.”
I wanted to tell him I didn’t need coddling, but as the mare lurched forward, following Balsan astride his prize gelding, I swayed like a sack of flour. I had never felt so ungainly or imperiled in my life. The ground seemed miles below me. It didn’t help that as I grappled with the reins, the mare snorted and swiveled her great head to try to nip me.
We rode around the newly fenced-in meadow. It was hardly more than a short excursion but by the time we returned to the stables, I was soaked in sweat, chafed about my buttocks, and thoroughly disgusted with myself.
“There. That wasn’t so bad,” Balsan said as he helped me to dismount, no doubt relieved that I had shown some initiative and not spent another day indoors moping and filling my room to the rafters with more hats. “Tomorrow, you’ll do better.”
With a glare, I marched back into the château. I certainly would. I would not accept anything less. But not like this. If I was going to ride, I must have the use of both my legs, not be relegated to perching atop the mare like a figurine on a cake.
Rummaging through his closet in his room—where I almost never ventured—I searched his attire for something suitable I could use to make a riding outfit. He had more clothes than anyone else I had known, hundreds of jackets and waistcoats, trousers and shirts, though he was not vain. Rather, his limitless wealth allowed him to acquire as he pleased, and mostof what he bought he never wore. Once I located a slightly frayed pair of his jodhpurs, I returned to my room and went to work. It took the rest of the day and most of the night, but when I arrived at the stables the next morning he took one look at me and laughed, “Coco, you really go too far!”
I ignored his mirth and the wide-eyed stares of his hired help. With my new jodhpurs fitted to my figure and a wide-brimmed felt hat, I clambered onto the mare with ease. Sitting astride, I took up the reins and said to a still-grinning Balsan, “ Now, I’ll do better.”
And so I did. I spent the next weeks riding every day, until the improvised jodhpurs began to wear in the seat and I could gallop without my heart in my throat. When Balsan informed me that he planned another of his gatherings for the upcoming weekend, it bolstered my confidence. I went to Compiègne where he kept a tailor on account, to
Similar Books
