could be
called 'Georgie' without her mother reminding them that she was to
be called 'Mary'. Most miraculously of all, Captain Wood had been
able to shoot pigeons without a return of his worries about the
French. His 'Spanish disease' v seemed to be abating.
Early the next morning, back in Penyclawdd,
Cecelia roused Mary and dragged her out to the stables. “Time to
check on our horses.”
“Do we have to?”
“Well, yes. If we find something wrong, it may
take all day to treat it. Besides, we rode them much longer than I
had planned yesterday and they might need extra care before we try
riding up Hatterrall hill.”
“Wouldn't my groom check these things?”
“He should, but grooms are lazy.” She paused and
then shouted, “Did you hear that John?” In her normal voice she
continued, “They don't always check everything and you don't want
to end up miles from anywhere with a lame horse.”
“I see. It is different from riding in the
village, isn't it?”
Cecelia showed her friend how to check the
horses for stiffness and sore muscles. She asked, “Georgie, what do
you think?”
“They do seem sore, don't they?”
“I agree, what should we do?”
“You're the expert.”
“Perhaps, but I want to hear what you
think.”
“I suppose they need to rest.”
“Good start, what else?”
“I don't know. Wait, when my older brother would
get sore after a game, the next day he'd often do something gentle
to work his muscles out. Could we do that?”
“That's what I'd do. We'll trot them around the
yard on a line this afternoon. Warm up their muscles, but not
overdo it. We can always do the hill tomorrow.”
As they returned to the house, Mary asked her,
“What else are we going to do today?”
“I don't know. I thought I'd try to practice on
the spinet. Maybe you could help me?”
“I can try, have you ever had it tuned?”
“Tuned?”
“It might be hard for me to help you if it's too
far out of tune. It hurts my ears to play one that is too far out
of tune.”
“I hadn't thought of that. Anyway I'm always
busy here, you can tag along and help me with my chores.”
“Your chores?”
“Visiting the tenant farmers, keeping an eye on
them. There are several who think that just because we're
' Saeson ' they can rob us blind.”
“Saeson?”
“Welsh slang for the English. There's one of the
farmers who wants to cut the local wood down, and sell the lumber.
Our wood, his profit.”
“I guess you really do keep busy.”
“There's a lot to do when you're running an
estate.”
“What are you going to do when Miss Arnold
becomes Mrs. Wood?”
“I don't know. Somehow I doubt they'll want me
to stay here and manage Penyclawdd. I expect my aunt in Swansea
will look after me, at least until I'm married.”
“If you say so. I think my mother would be
willing to put you up.”
“That would be very nice of her, but I'm not
sure I could accept.”
“I don't know why not. I'd certainly like your
company and now young Master Charles wants riding lessons too.”
Cecelia laughed, “I suppose I could support
myself as a riding instructor and horse coper to the gentry. But
that's not very ladylike.”
When they finished breakfast, Cecelia suggested
that they harness one of the carriage horses to the gig and ride to
the farms. “After that, fate no doubt will provide a
distraction.”
Fate didn't, but Miss Arnold did. She met them
in the yard when they returned, and demanded, “Where were you?”
“Just riding around, looking in at the
tenants.”
“Didn't you think I might want to come?”
“I'm sorry, I thought you hadn't awoken
yet.”
“I hadn't. That doesn't matter, I sat here all
morning, bored and alone.”
“Jane.”
“Miss Arnold!”
“Miss Arnold, I'm truly sorry. Neither of us
thought that you would be interested.”
Jane snapped, “The trouble is you didn't
think.”
“We still have to warm up our horses so they are
ready for tomorrow. Would you like to
called 'Georgie' without her mother reminding them that she was to
be called 'Mary'. Most miraculously of all, Captain Wood had been
able to shoot pigeons without a return of his worries about the
French. His 'Spanish disease' v seemed to be abating.
Early the next morning, back in Penyclawdd,
Cecelia roused Mary and dragged her out to the stables. “Time to
check on our horses.”
“Do we have to?”
“Well, yes. If we find something wrong, it may
take all day to treat it. Besides, we rode them much longer than I
had planned yesterday and they might need extra care before we try
riding up Hatterrall hill.”
“Wouldn't my groom check these things?”
“He should, but grooms are lazy.” She paused and
then shouted, “Did you hear that John?” In her normal voice she
continued, “They don't always check everything and you don't want
to end up miles from anywhere with a lame horse.”
“I see. It is different from riding in the
village, isn't it?”
Cecelia showed her friend how to check the
horses for stiffness and sore muscles. She asked, “Georgie, what do
you think?”
“They do seem sore, don't they?”
“I agree, what should we do?”
“You're the expert.”
“Perhaps, but I want to hear what you
think.”
“I suppose they need to rest.”
“Good start, what else?”
“I don't know. Wait, when my older brother would
get sore after a game, the next day he'd often do something gentle
to work his muscles out. Could we do that?”
“That's what I'd do. We'll trot them around the
yard on a line this afternoon. Warm up their muscles, but not
overdo it. We can always do the hill tomorrow.”
As they returned to the house, Mary asked her,
“What else are we going to do today?”
“I don't know. I thought I'd try to practice on
the spinet. Maybe you could help me?”
“I can try, have you ever had it tuned?”
“Tuned?”
“It might be hard for me to help you if it's too
far out of tune. It hurts my ears to play one that is too far out
of tune.”
“I hadn't thought of that. Anyway I'm always
busy here, you can tag along and help me with my chores.”
“Your chores?”
“Visiting the tenant farmers, keeping an eye on
them. There are several who think that just because we're
' Saeson ' they can rob us blind.”
“Saeson?”
“Welsh slang for the English. There's one of the
farmers who wants to cut the local wood down, and sell the lumber.
Our wood, his profit.”
“I guess you really do keep busy.”
“There's a lot to do when you're running an
estate.”
“What are you going to do when Miss Arnold
becomes Mrs. Wood?”
“I don't know. Somehow I doubt they'll want me
to stay here and manage Penyclawdd. I expect my aunt in Swansea
will look after me, at least until I'm married.”
“If you say so. I think my mother would be
willing to put you up.”
“That would be very nice of her, but I'm not
sure I could accept.”
“I don't know why not. I'd certainly like your
company and now young Master Charles wants riding lessons too.”
Cecelia laughed, “I suppose I could support
myself as a riding instructor and horse coper to the gentry. But
that's not very ladylike.”
When they finished breakfast, Cecelia suggested
that they harness one of the carriage horses to the gig and ride to
the farms. “After that, fate no doubt will provide a
distraction.”
Fate didn't, but Miss Arnold did. She met them
in the yard when they returned, and demanded, “Where were you?”
“Just riding around, looking in at the
tenants.”
“Didn't you think I might want to come?”
“I'm sorry, I thought you hadn't awoken
yet.”
“I hadn't. That doesn't matter, I sat here all
morning, bored and alone.”
“Jane.”
“Miss Arnold!”
“Miss Arnold, I'm truly sorry. Neither of us
thought that you would be interested.”
Jane snapped, “The trouble is you didn't
think.”
“We still have to warm up our horses so they are
ready for tomorrow. Would you like to
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