In the Shadow of Arabella by Lois Menzel Page A

jumper. He seldom refuses and has wonderful stamina.”
    “I would be terribly disappointed if I had to miss Lord Beecham’s house party,” she continued, “I so look forward to it.”
    “Does your family keep any hunters?” he asked, knowing the answer but not wanting her to know that Beecham had shared such personal details with him.
    “My father had several handsome hunters when I was young, but my parents are both gone now. There is only my younger sister and I, and I am afraid our budget does not allow for a stable.”
    “How old is your sister?”
    “Seventeen, almost eighteen. She attends Westleigh Academy in Lincoln.”
    They suspended their conversation as heavy traffic forced them to ride single file, the earl checking his horse while Katherine went ahead. Once inside the park they rode abreast again and Katherine was the first to speak.
    “I had a hunter of my own once,” she said.” When he cast her a quizzical glance, she half smiled again, remembering. “I suppose I must explain that. My father loved to hunt, and I think he wanted a son, but he had me, and he found I loved horses as much as he did. I begged him to teach me to jump—and in time, he agreed. When my mother objected, he said that if the Empress of Russia could ride astride, he did not see why I could not do so as well, seeing as I had my heart set on it. I dressed in my cousin’s breeches and started on a pony. Eventually my father bought me a horse; his name was Jeremy. It was the name he had when my father bought him, and we never changed it because he knew it well and answered to it.” The tone of her voice changed subtly. “He had to be sold when my father died.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “More than ten years.”
    “Ten years! You were very young to be handling a hunter, surely?”
    “I was young, nevertheless he was all mine,” she said proudly. “He was just under sixteen hands. I had to climb a fence to mount him, but we had some grand times together.”
    Rudley was pleased with the direction their conversation had taken. “Did you live in Lincolnshire as a child?”
    “No, my father’s home was in Devon, situated in rather indifferent hunting country. But Jeremy and I managed to find some obstacles worthy of us.”
    “Such as?”
    “I really should not tell you. I was out of favor for weeks as a result of one course we chose.’’
    “Now I must know, for you have piqued my interest unfairly.”
    “Very well, I will tell you, but you must remember I was only eleven at the time and I had a horse that loved to jump. There were a few hedges and fences about the countryside, but the most tempting obstacle in the entire neighborhood was the lovely stone wall surrounding the church cemetery. It was only a short gallop through the woods behind our house and then over the wall we would fly. Once inside there were all those marvelous tombstones, spaced just far enough apart. I went early in the morning when no one was about and I was never seen . . . until one unfortunate day.”
    “What happened?”
    “One of the village children had told me how she occasionally avoided going to church by feigning illness. If you knew how boring our minister’s sermons were you would understand why it sounded like a marvelous suggestion.
    “So one Sunday morning I tried it on my mother and it worked. She tucked me up snugly in bed and went off to morning service with my sister and my father. No sooner were they gone than I dressed and ran down to the stables for Jeremy. We rode far afield, avoiding the church and all the roads leading to it.
    “When it neared time for the service to be over, I turned toward home. I had a few minutes remaining so I decided on a quick gallop through the woods. Before I came too close to the church I started to pull Jeremy up, but he would not stop! He had galloped that way so often and enjoyed it so much that he was determined to finish our regular course. I was not strong enough to hold