The Reckoning (29 page)

He had arrived at school in the company of Roland, Lord
Aylesbury, a gangling, solemn, shy boy whose unnatural
application to his studies had earned him the nickname of ‘Peg', and Weston had early let it be known that whoever
insulted Peg Aylesbury insulted him, too. By the time
Hampton joined them and was assigned to the same house, it
had not been necessary for Weston to do more than indicate
that Hampton was under his protection for all but the worst
bullies to leave him alone.

As they drew nearer to Wolvercote Polly grew more talkative and excited, while Peg grew quieter with apprehension.
He was dreading the homecoming because he would be
obliged to meet people and play the lord. The banner would
be raised on the flagpole to indicate that the master was at
home, and the tenants would all come visiting to pay their
respects; Mama's friends would arrive and he'd be expected
to take the head of the table at dinner and talk and be
charming. This was a terrifying prospect to Aylesbury. He
had spent years under the charge of an over-strict tutor, who
had oppressed and beaten him unmercifully, and stripped
him of his self-confidence.

Weston knew what was troubling him.
In
the same posi
tion, he could have carried it off without effort, and wouldn't
have cared whether he did or didn't. But poor Aylesbury was terrified of failing, of disappointing his mother, of making a
fool of himself, and would therefore, probably, do all three.

As they clattered past Walton Manor, Weston said, 'I wish
you wouldn't worry so, Peg. Worry don't help – in fact, it
makes it worse.'

‘
I know,' he said miserably. 'But if only they wouldn't
make such a fuss. If only Papa hadn't hung up his tile. If only
someone else could do it.'

‘
If only the Trojan horse had foaled, hunters today would
cost less to feed,' Weston countered.

‘
I say, what's the trouble?' Hampton asked, suddenly aware
that his was not the prevailing mood. 'You fellows are looking uncommon grim.'

‘
Peg don't like being Earl,' Weston explained. 'He's going to have to receive guests and generally do the pretty, and he
don't like it above half.'

‘
Don't blame him,' Hampton said promptly. 'If anything
should happen to my uncle Ballincrea, I'd be in the same
boat. It'd be me for the ermine and the nine silver balls, and there'd go all the fun and gig. It could happen any time.' He
shuddered. 'This business of titles is all gammon, ain't it?'

‘You won't think so one day,' said Weston.

‘
No, but really, Tough,' Aylesbury said earnestly, 'if it's
true that – you know – what you told me that time – it might
just as well have been you, mightn't it? Which just shews you.'

‘Shews you what?'

‘Well, that it makes no difference, really.’

Weston shook his head at him sadly. 'Cabbage for brains!' he said. 'The whole point is that it isn't me. That's the differ
ence that makes the difference. You're an earl, and I'm the
illegitimate son of a sea-captain.'

‘Yes, but –'

‘rush, Peg. Mum's the word.'

‘
Oh, it's all right, Polly knows about it. I told him last half.’

‘
You did, did you?'

‘
It's all right,' Aylesbury said, suddenly nervous, for Tough
could give you such a cold look when he was annoyed. 'I
swore him to secrecy.'

‘
Oh,
that's
what you're talking about!' Hampton cried,
suddenly enlightened. 'Yes, it's quite all right, Tough. I'd
never tell a soul, honestly. And I think it's a splendid secret!
Her ladyship's a trump – a real out-and-outer!'

‘
You two are a pair of clowns,' Weston said with patient
humour. 'It don't make a shred of difference, can't you get
that into your thick heads? We're still just what we always
were.'

‘
Yes, very well for you,' Aylesbury said earnestly, 'but it
does make a difference to me, Tough. It means you're my
real, true brother, and that's everything.'

‘
I should say so!' Hampton breathed. 'I wish you were
mine, too!'

‘
I was always worried what would happen when we finished
school and you went off into the world,' Aylesbury went on,
‘and I had to stay behind to be the earl. But now I know
you'll always be my brother, so it's all right, isn't it?’

Weston looked at him with affection and faint irritation,
but was saved from answering this unanswerable question by a loud halloo, accompanied by the sound of hooves. They all looked round to see a female in a dark-blue habit, sidesaddle
upon a black horse, cantering down on them, and leading an
unridden bay by the bridle.

‘
Is that your mama?' Hampton asked in awe as the
barouche drew up and the rider came flying towards them
across the Port Meadow.

‘
Of course not,' Weston said before Aylesbury could speak.
He would have known his mother at any distance, in any
light, and upon any horse. 'It's her horse – Hotspur – but it's
Lady Rosamund riding.’

A moment later they could see that he was right. Rosa
mund pulled up at the last moment beside the carriage in a trampling swirl of horses, Hotspur digging clods out of the
turf while the led horse went back on his haunches in a way
that would have unseated any lesser rider.

‘
Ah, there you are, Aylesbury! Hello, young Hampton!
Hello Tommy! I meant to catch you before you got this far,
but I couldn't get this fellow over the brook. His name's
Thunder – handsome, isn't he?' The led horse, thus
addressed, tugged once more at the reins, and finding himself
securely held, consented to put all four feet back on the
ground and stand quietly.

‘
He's very nice,' Aylesbury said shyly. His tall sister always
made him feel small and young and useless, though in truth
she had never been other than kind to him. But she was so
bold, and so full of energy, and nothing ever seemed to
embarrass or upset her. 'Are you having a nice ride?’

She grinned at him. 'Enjoying the last of my freedom,
before the party arrives. Your mama and sister are here
already, Hampton, but the difficult ones don't come until
tomorrow.'

‘
How do you like Hotspur?' Weston asked. He did not share
the family's passion for horses, seeing them only as a means of
transport; but there was no doubt that Rosamund looked magnificent on horseback, and he knew Lady Theakston
wouldn't have allowed anyone else to ride her black gelding.

‘
Oh, he and I are old friends,' she said, leaning forward to
pat the warm black neck. 'And Thunder is for you, Aylesbury
– a present from Mama. She and I picked him out ourselves,
and I've been riding him for the last two days to work him in
for you. So down with you, and try him out.'

‘What – now?'

‘
Of course, now. Come, foolish, it's the perfect opportunity,
with no-one but me to see you! We'll ride back the long way.
The boys won't mind being left alone – will you? He's a
beauty – a real gentleman – and if you get to know him now,
it'll give you confidence when the party arrives.’

Aylesbury saw nothing but kindness in his sister's eyes – no
desire to trick or humiliate – and a glance at Weston
confirmed his approval. It did seem a good plan; and the bay
horse, he thought with rising spirits, looked splendid.

‘Well, if you don't mind, then, Polly?'

‘N't'all. Wish I could join you,' Hampton said politely.

‘
Good fellow,' Rosamund said cheerfully. 'Come on, then,
Aylesbury. Can you get up all right? He's a tall one. Don't
forget to check your girth. I thought we'd go across at
Fiddler's Island and round by Binsey and Godstow. Mama's
spoiling to have another of her point-to-points while the
company's here, and it will give you a chance to see the
ground. Not that any of us will have a chance against her
Magnus Apollo – that horse has wings in his feet!’

Aylesbury was up, and felt the horse eager but responsive
beneath him, and his heart lifted as it always did when he was
on horseback. Horses didn't laugh at you or make you feel
small. He waved cheerfully to his friends in the barouche, and turned the bay after the trim figure of his sister, thinking with
faint surprise that it was a very good notion of hers, and very
kind indeed of her to think of it.

*

They had had their gallop, and were breathing the horses
beside the abbey ruins, watching the fast, grey-brown water
of the Isis run down just under the bank.

‘
Two weeks ago the Meadow was flooded,' Rosamund
remarked idly. 'There's never been such a summer for rain.
So tell me, what do you think of Thunder?'

‘He's beautiful. I can't wait to hunt him.'

‘
I'm glad you like him. Don't forget to tell Mama so when we get in, and thank her. It was she who decided you should
have a horse of your own.'

‘Mama? Oh, but –'

‘
You mustn't be such a quaking aspen. Mama isn't a
dragon, and she'll be much less sharp with you if you'll only
face her and speak out boldly.'

‘I couldn't,' he said, shrinking.

‘
You
can.
It's the same with everyone. You just have to
stand up straight and speak firmly, and everyone will be as
kind as Christmas to you. But it annoys people when you
whisper and mumble and look frightened.'

‘Yes, I know,' he said humbly. 'I see how it is with Tough –
Thomas, I mean. Everyone likes him, because he ain't afraid.
But what do you do if you
are?’

Rosamund shrugged. 'I suppose – pretend. That's what I'd
do. You're the earl, and you're going to have to face up to
public life sooner or later. You might as well get used to it,
Roly. There's no getting out of it.'

‘
All very well for you – you've never been afraid in your
life.’

She looked at him thoughtfully. 'I've
had
to face up to
unpleasant things. Last year in Brussels – you can't imagine
how horrible it was, the men coming in with smashed legs and
bellies torn open, and –' She stopped. 'But when I thought of
what Mama was having to face, what she was having to
do
–
well, I made myself go on, so as not to let her down.'