LITMIR.BIZ

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well. I told Spink that you’d probably prefer to stay behind. That leaves Sirlofty free for me, then.’ She turned and started to leave.

      ‘You and Spink are going riding? When was this decided?’

      ‘We had early breakfast together.’

      ‘In your nightclothes?’

      ‘Well, he was dressed, but I scarcely see the sense of getting dressed before we’ve decided what to do with the day. Now I shall go and put on my riding skirts.’

      ‘That is scandalous!’

      ‘It’s eminently sensible. If you knew how long it takes for a woman to dress, you would see that I’ve saved nearly an hour of my day. And there is no more precious commodity than time.’ Her hand was on the doorknob. She opened the door.

      I spoke hastily. ‘I’m going riding with you. On Sirlofty.’

      She smiled at me over her shoulder. ‘You’d best hurry then if you expect to eat anything before we leave.’

      Despite her claim of how long it took for a woman to dress, she was ready and waiting by the door before I had finished a very hurried breakfast. Spink was likewise eager to depart. He and Epiny stood in the foyer, talking and laughing, she with her annoying whistle clamped between her teeth all the while. Her father bade us a good-natured farewell, for he would not budge from his leisurely breakfast and morning newspaper. I envied him, but could not tolerate the thought of Epiny showing off my horse to Spink.

      Nevertheless, I was a bit disappointed. I had expected a groom to accompany us, so that Spink and I could safely gallop off without worrying about Epiny. Instead, we were her guardians. Spink was mounted on a borrowed white gelding, a well-trained saddle horse but one completely unfamiliar with any sort of military manoeuvres. And Epiny chose that we would ride on the bridle paths parallel to the Grand Promenade in Cuthhew’s Park. I suspected that she enjoyed displaying herself to the proper young women riding in pony carts with their mothers or strolling the paths in groups of three or four with an earnest chaperone. And there was my cousin, her riding skirts barely coming to her shins, as if she were a girl of ten instead of a young woman, alone with two young men in cadet dress. I had not considered how we might appear to others when I had agreed to ride with her, and feared I would bring embarrassment to my uncle’s household. Surely rumours of this outing would fly back to my uncle’s wife. How could any of Epiny’s acquaintances know that I was her cousin and responsible for her that day? They would simply see her as out riding with two soldier sons. Epiny’s mother already disdained me. How could Epiny put me in a position where I would appear to deserve that scorn? I did what I could to present a respectable appearance. I kept our pace sedate. Several times she sighed loudly and looked exasperatedly at me. I ignored her, determined to behave properly in such a public place.

      She was the one who suddenly put her grey mare into a gallop, forcing Spink and me to give chase and exciting all sorts of cries of alarm and consternation as we raced after her. Epiny clung like a burr to her mount, shrilling wildly through the otter-whistle that she still gripped in her teeth. I wondered if she were too stupid to realize that the sound of the whistle was probably frightening her horse and exciting Celeste to even greater speed. I kicked Sirlofty to overtake her, but the path had narrowed and Spink and his gelding were in the way. I cried out to him to leave the path and give me clearance, but I do not think he heard me. A cyclist coming toward us wailed in alarm and crashed his machine into a laurel hedge to avoid us as we thundered past him. He shouted angrily after us.

      Epiny guided her horse away from the commonly used paths and onto a lesser trail. We left the groomed environs of the park behind and soon raced, single file, down a bramble-choked winding path. Spink had his horse between my cousin and me, or Sirlofty could have easily outrun Epiny’s mare and let me catch her. Twice, fallen trees blocked the way, and each time her horse cleared the obstacle in a jump, I feared that I would be bringing her lifeless body home to my uncle. We came to an open area alongside the river, and there it was that she finally pulled in her mount.

      Spink reached her first, crying out, ‘Epiny, are you hurt?’ as he flung himself off his horse. She had already dismounted and was breathing hard. Her cheeks were very pink in the cool air and her hair had come undone from her netted hat and tangled about on her shoulders. As I rode up and dismounted, she reached back to carelessly knot it up again and restore it to the snood it had escaped.

      ‘Of course I’m all right!’ She smiled. ‘Oh, what a lovely gallop that was. It did both of us much good. Celeste so seldom gets a chance to really stretch her legs.’

      ‘I thought your horse had run away with you!’ Spink exclaimed.

      ‘Well, yes, she did, but only because I urged her to it. Come. Let us walk the horses on the path by the river to cool them. It’s lovely there, even at this time of year.’

      I had had enough. ‘Epiny, I cannot believe your behaviour! What is the matter with you, to give us such a scare? Spink and I were terrified for you, to say nothing of the other people in the park. What ails you, that a young woman of your family and years acts like an irresponsible hoyden?’

      She had begun to walk away, leading her mare. Now she turned back to me. Her face changed as completely as if she had removed a mask, and I think that in some ways, she had. She leaned toward me as she spoke, and had she been a horse, her ears would have been back and her teeth bared. ‘The day I begin acting like a woman instead of a girl, the day I succumb to the manacles and shackles prepared for me is the day on which my parents will auction me off to the highest bidder. I had heard that on the border, women were allowed to have lives of their own. I had expected a more modern sensibility from you, cousin dear. Instead, over and over, you reveal my worst fears for you rather than my fondest hopes.’

      ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ I felt angry, indignant, and strangely hurt at her disparaging words.

      ‘I do,’ Spink said quietly. ‘My mother speaks of it.’

      ‘Of what?’ I demanded. Was he siding with Epiny again? I felt as I did when I first tried to learn Varnian; that people were talking but that their words conveyed no meaning.

      ‘Of women learning to run their own affairs,’ Spink said. ‘I’ve told you how our first overseer cheated us, when my brothers and I were little more than children. My mother blames that on her education and upbringing. She says that if she had been able to understand the accounts and how the holdings should have been operated, she would have never lost for us what should have been my brother’s fortune. So when she sent for a tutor for my brother, she insisted that she be allowed to sit in on all his lessons. And she has taught my two sisters all that they might need to know, should they ever become untimely widows with small children to defend.’

      I stared at him, unable to think of anything to say.

      ‘Exactly,’ Epiny said, as if it justified all her strange behaviour.

      I found my tongue. ‘I would blame more your mother’s family, that your uncle did not come to your aid.’

      ‘Blaming them will not undo what is done. And even though I doubt that my elder brother would ever abandon my wife and children to such a fate, no one can predict that he would be alive and in a position to help them in such straits. My mother has said that no daughter of hers will suffer as she did, from ignorance.’

      I could think of any number of replies to that, ranging from tactless to cutting. Instead, I turned to my cousin and said, ‘I cannot imagine what “shackles and manacles” you are so dreading, Epiny. If you behave like a lady, you will marry well and go to a lovely home of your own, with servants to care for your needs. It seems to me that all noble ladies in Old Thares have to do is fix their hair and order new clothing to be made for them. Are those your “shackles” you speak of? It shames you to speak of your parents as “auctioning you off” as if you were a prize cow! How can you say such a cruel thing when your father so obviously loves you?’

      ‘Shackles of velvet, and manacles of lace, dear cousin, can bind a woman as effectively as those of cold iron. Oh, my father

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