Page 42 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)

Giddins watched him with his bristly jaw set.

‘And mind that gate post!’ he shouted. Seeing the wagon clear the gate, he turned away, muttering to himself.

‘Askin’ after members of the family, as if he was anybody!

Don’t know what the world’s coming to. ’Twouldn’t have happened in his lordship’s day.

People used to know their place. His lordship and Lady Alice helping with the harvest – the very idea!

’ He reached the core of his indignation.

‘Comin’ in soaked to the skin, lookin’ like gypsies, for all to see.

What’ll people think? His old lordship would’ve never .

. .’ He had reached the tack-room door, and stopped, puzzled, having forgotten what he was on the way to do when interrupted by Axe Brandom.

Blessed if he could remember! Uppish estate workers, coming meddling with his day!

All the world was going to rack, if you asked him.

Nothing was the same since the old Queen died . . .

Nina was at Welland Hall again, walking with Bobby towards the stables. Bobby halted when they reached the gate of the yard, and turned to her with an appraising look. ‘Have you ever ridden cross-saddle?’ she asked abruptly.

‘When I was a child,’ Nina said. ‘Not since.’

‘Have you thought about it?’

‘I can’t say that I have. Why?’

‘Kipper and I were talking about it the other day, after you’d left. He was quite concerned about the accident you nearly had with Florence.’

‘ Nearly had,’ Nina said with a smile. ‘Not the same as actually had.’

‘I know. But, you see, riding side-saddle is much more dangerous than cross-saddle. For a man, if his horse comes down, his saddle’s designed to throw him clear.

For us, the horns are designed to hold us in place.

The chances of falling clear are small – and because of the imbalance of having our weight all to one side, it’s more likely the horse will fall that way and we’ll be trapped underneath. ’

Nina looked at her in surprise. ‘Are you saying you don’t want me to ride your horses? You think I’m not good enough?’

‘No!’ Bobby said impatiently. ‘That’s not it at all. This isn’t about you, it’s about all women. Why do you think we ride side-saddle?’

‘I don’t know. We just do.’

‘It’s because the men make us. They claim that riding astride looks immodest. Their idea, of course, is that women should ride purely to be seen, and not for any pleasure they might get out of it.

Side-saddle is awkward and difficult and dangerous, and bad for the horses, too.

It puts a strain on their backs and lungs. ’

‘But – do you ride cross-saddle?’

‘Often, when I’m alone. It’s wonderful, Nina!

The ease and freedom! The feeling you have of complete control over your horse!

You know that, riding side-saddle, you have to carry your hands high, too high to have proper contact with your horse’s mouth.

And you can’t use your legs the way a man can.

Riding across is like being one flesh with your horse, like a centaur.

Everything is so smooth – jumping is so easy – you feel as if you could never come off! ’

‘Is it so very wonderful?’ Nina wondered, smiling.

‘More than I can express,’ Bobby said eagerly.

‘I’m trying to get up the courage to hunt cross-saddle next season, but I’d really like someone else to do it with me.

There is one lady who hunts with the Fernie who rides across, but she’s very rich and eccentric and quite old, so nobody thinks much of it. It would be more shocking if I did it.’

‘Shocking,’ Nina repeated doubtfully. ‘What does your husband think about it?’

‘He’s used to it now. He didn’t like the idea at first, but when I explained how dangerous side-saddle is, he was converted, because he does love me awfully.

He doesn’t mind just out on hacks. I haven’t tackled him yet over the hunting.

But, Nina, wouldn’t you like to try it? Today, just riding out with me, I mean.

I promise you, it will be a revelation. And then, with two of us, we could face the world together over the hunting question. ’

‘I’d love to try it,’ Nina said, ‘but I don’t think Mr Cowling would like it. He’s said to me more than once how elegant a lady looks riding side-saddle.’

‘Well, that’s it,’ Bobby said. ‘That’s the whole issue.

Why should a man dictate to us how we ride?

No woman would ever be twisted up and packed into a side-saddle again if she could help it, risking her life and health and her horse’s well-being, losing the natural pleasure she might have, if she wasn’t forced to prostrate herself before the tyranny of silly fashion! ’

‘You are passionate,’ Nina smiled. ‘But men decide everything we do, don’t they?’

‘And that’s why Mrs Anstruther can hunt across – because she’s a widow, and wealthy, so there’s no man to tell her what to do. She’s been doing it for five years. It caused a scandal in the papers the first year, but nobody says anything now.’

‘But you say she’s wealthy – isn’t that also the point? We’re married, our husbands keep us, without them we’d have no means to support ourselves. So we have to do what they want. Don’t we?’

Bobby looked at her for a moment, then said, ‘Well, that’s an argument for another day. One thing at a time. Would you like to try it today? No one will see us. We’ll just go over the fields and through the woods. Oh, do , Nina! You can’t imagine how glorious it feels.’

Nina needed no urging to want to do it. She remembered scrambling about on her pony as a child, and the freedom it had bestowed. ‘What do I wear?’

‘Just what you wear now. You have breeches and boots under your skirt. You can arrange the skirt, once you’re mounted, to cover your legs.’

She looked at Nina with an expression of such pleading and hopefulness that Nina laughed, and said, ‘I can’t resist you. Yes, I’ll try it.’

Bobby beamed. ‘I knew you were the right sort! I’ve held off from mentioning it before, until I was sure about you, but Kipper said the same when he met you. He liked you straight away.’

‘I liked him, too. Do I still ride Florence?’

‘No, she’s not very good for cross-saddle. You shall have Andante – he’s perfect. Come on, let’s get going! I can’t wait to see how you feel. It’s like being reborn.’

She pushed open the gate, and Nina followed, feeling excited and just a little bit nervous – not about the horses, but about the possible consequences.

Aunt Schofield had always said a woman should make up her own mind about things, but she had been a widow a long time, and her husband had been no Mr Cowling.