Miss Ryder's Memoirs by Laura Matthews

were things that we might have said, that our bodies seemed to be saying to each other, that were not possible to speak aloud. Alarmed, I tried not to listen, but my body was as attuned to him as an ear to music.
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    Mr. Hinchly was his inhospitable self. I’d often wondered whether he had become that way from living in the most inhospitable farmhouse I had ever seen, or whether he had chosen the building because it suited his temperament. Like the farm buildings in the west, his had originally been a long-house where farmer shared space with animal. Though the building had long since been converted to solely human use, it still looked cramped and unwelcoming, with its tiny windows and blackened bricks. Mr. Hinchly could have afforded to build himself a fine manor house, but apparently had never had the least desire to do so.
    I had sent a note informing him of our proposed visit and had received no word in reply. “He sort of grunted,” Jed informed me. His welcome consisted of an offhand remark about Sir John’s horses—"Got ‘em from a good man, I see.”—before he stumped off toward the stables, apparently expecting us to follow. Sir John handed me down from the curricle.
    “Friendly sort of fellow, isn’t he?” he whispered under cover of our horses being led away.
    “I warned you. For him, this is positively affable. Sometimes when Robert and I used to come, he only met us at the stables after we’d investigated each of the horses.”
    “But you assured me that you could handle him.”
    “And so I can. For one thing, you have to understand that he won’t deal at all with strangers.” I was walking rapidly to keep up with him. “Unless he has an introduction to a buyer, he won’t let one of his horses go off.”
    “Very odd in him.” Sir John regarded the retreating form with interest. “Doesn’t that hamper him a bit in making a profit from his breeding?”
    “Not at all. In this neighborhood he’s extremely well known and can’t produce enough horses to satisfy the demand. So don’t expect to get away easily with one of his finer pairs. He’ll charge you dearly for anything you show a real interest in.”
    “I’ll remember.”
    And he did. At most stables it’s difficult to find all the really necessary qualities in a pair. One will be truly noble, with strong loins and a perfect disposition, while the other is a most inferior animal. But Sir John was particularly interested in spirit and metal, so color, shape, and height were secondary considerations. A pair will look more beautifully matched if their paces suit well and they have an equal strength than if their markings are identical.
    Because of my special sensibility with regard to Sir John, I could tell when an animal interested him, though there was no overt sign Mr. Hinchly would necessarily have noticed. As we watched the animals put through their paces, I saw that Sir John was excited about the bays, and what magnificent animals they were! Strong firm necks, full broad breasts, short-jointed, strong-backed. They would have been my choice over the creams or the blacks.
    Sir John looked at a dozen pairs, questioning Hinchly on their breeding and their price. Only once did he refer to the bays, by saying, “I suppose my mother could use them for her phaeton.”
    Mr. Hinchly may not have been taken in by this ploy, but he couldn’t be sure of Sir John’s interest, either. Less showy than the baronet’s chestnuts, or even a dappled pair that he could have had at Overview, the bays were superb in their movement and speed. Sir John seemed especially interested in their speed.
    “It may be that I could use the bays,” he said, “but I’m not certain. Perhaps I’ll take a few days to think it over.”
    Mr. Hinchly merely grunted at him. “Don’t make no matter to me. Might miss them, though. Another fellow were lookin’ at them yesterday. Darndest thing how no one can make up his mind these days. What do