Runaway by Marie-Louise Jensen Page B

snuffed at me. I stretched a hand out and stroked her beautiful face. She lipped at my fingers, hoping for a treat. I felt safest here in her box at night, away from the other boys. It also had the advantage of being open to the yard and the fresh air, while the stalls were enclosed within the stable block and by morning the smell of horse piss was enough to make your eyes water.
    Lying under the blanket, my skin tingling from the soap, cold water, and the rough rag, I hoped I was cleaner now. In my mind, I could still see the look of disgust on the old gentleman’s face when he smelled me. Lawrence had been more polite, but he must have felt the same way.
    I was growing warmer now. Belle’s steady presence beside me in the darkness was soothing. Tomorrow, I needed to get up early and spend some time with Pitch. My last thought as I fell asleep was the look of disappointment on Lawrence’s face as he left me in the tack room. I wanted so much to please him. I wasn’t doing as well as I’d hoped.

 

     
     
    I touched the fine clothes reverently and looked up at the sewing woman. ‘These are really for me?’ I breathed.
    ‘Not for mucking out the stables in!’ she said. ‘They’re only to be worn when you accompany any of the family out in the carriage. They’ll stay hanging up unless you need them. Mr Lawrence asked that you have another set of clothes made too, for everyday. His lordship likes everyone to be clean and smart. They’ll be yours to own and the expense will be taken out of your wages. The livery is not yours. It remains the property of the master; no wages you could earn would pay for it.’
    ‘I should say not,’ I said, touching the fine wool. Even as an officer’s daughter, I’d rarely, if ever, worn anything so fine. My father had always lived on an officer’s pay; it had provided the necessaries of life, but no luxuries.
    ‘Well, go on, try it on then!’
    I glanced around me uncomfortably. I’d been measured without being found out as a girl. But stripping off was another matter.
    ‘Lord love you, boy, I’m old enough to be your mother,’ the portly woman sighed. ‘And you ain’t got nothing I ain’t seen on a boy before.’ Nonetheless, she heaved herself to her feet pulled a folding screen out and set it up in a corner of the room. I slid behind it, clutching the clothes and slipped off my own grubby garments. I was glad I’d washed again last night. It wouldn’t do to put such fine clothes onto a filthy body.
    The dark-blue woollen breeches fitted perfectly. The linen shirt felt cool and soft against my bare skin. It was made very large, presumably to allow growing room, and hung almost to my knees. I sighed with pleasure as I fastened it and tucked it in. The coat was of blue wool to match the breeches. The cuffs and collar were large and of a pale blue, while the coat was edged and embroidered with silver thread, and silver buttons fastened it. Finally there were fine stockings, garters, and a pair of neat leather shoes fastened with little black buttons.
    I emerged from behind the screen to be pushed in front of a looking-glass. I could scarcely believe the reflection in the spotted glass. The clothes looked so fine. I hoped Lawrence would think so too. However, my grubby face and tufty hair ruined the vision before me. I hadn’t seen myself in months and was not impressed with the urchin look I’d acquired.
    The seamstress clearly thought the same. ‘You need a proper wash,’ she remarked. ‘We have a standard to keep up here. His lordship doesn’t buy costly livery for your benefit, but to show the world what a wealthy and important man he is. A dirty face is not acceptable.’
    ‘I understand,’ I said, my voice low. I had washed, but cold water was not ideal for cleaning off the greasy dirt of horses and stables.
    ‘Good. You’re wearing your master’s livery now. Everyone who sees you knows where you're from. Do you see this dark blue and the pale blue