Langdown Manor Read Online Free PDF Page B

veil. I didn’t have to wait long for Clemmie. She clattered downstairs, promptly followed by Miss Dunn, her governess. She wasn’t in riding clothes. I saw her stare at mine. I was wearing my white habit, and I shone like a beacon. Like my gowns it was more suited to the tropics than to this cold country. ‘It’s what we wear to ride in India,’ I told her. I twirled so that the habit flared out, like an apron, which was what it was. ‘It’s a lot safer than an ordinary habit if you fall,’ I explained, lifting it to show her. ‘It won’t get caught on the saddle.’
    â€˜Oh, how clever!’ said Clemmie clapping her hands. Miss Dunn had caught sight of a petticoat. She blushed. How unladylike!
    â€˜But aren’t you going to ride?’ I said to Clemmie.
    â€˜Not today,’ she said, giving Miss Dunn a furious look. She whispered in my ear. ‘She says it’s too cold.’
    â€˜Miss Clementine has a weak chest,’ Miss Dunn explained, wrapping a thick scarf around Clemmie’s neck.
    â€˜Oh,’ I said, not sure what to say.
    â€˜It’s all right,’ said Clemmie. ‘They say I’ll grow out of it, but in the meantime they make an awful fuss.’ She glared at Miss Dunn. But even when she glowers Clemmie’s face is so sweet you can’t help smiling.
    The stables were tucked away to the side of the house, beyond a huddle of other outbuildings. The wind whipped my face. Baxter had assured me it was a fine day when she’d pulled back the curtains that morning. In England that seems to mean that it isn’t actually raining.
    Clemmie opened the gate into the yard. Two men were washing their arms in a bucket of soapy water. They threw me a curious look, then touched their caps when they saw who I was with. I looked past them to see a boy leading a horse up to a stall. Her flanks were steaming as if she had been ridden hard. I caught a glimpse of a white star on her forehead. I watched while the boy sponged her down and threw a blanket over her back. He was whistling. The tune was oddly familiar. I tried to remember why, and then I did. Father used to hum it sometimes when he’d thought that Mother wasn’t listening. It used to irritate Mother, but I liked it. It was comforting to hear it now. It made Langdown seem a little less strange.
    â€˜Hello, Fred!’ Clemmie shouted. She seized my arm, pulling me along with her.
    â€˜Miss Clementine, Miss Penelope!’ expostulated Miss Dunn, lifting her gown in one hand to hasten after us. ‘Remember who you are. A young lady does not shout and she does not run.’
    The lad had straightened up at the sound of Clemmie’s voice. ‘Good afternoon.’ He bent his head politely, pushing back a strand of auburn hair that had fallen into his eyes. His hand was very white for someone who worked outside all day, and there were little freckles on his arm. He looked up and caught me staring. I blushed and looked away.
    â€˜I’ve brought my cousin Penelope to see the stables,’ explained Clemmie. ‘Her father hunts tigers in India! Will you find her a horse to ride?’
    â€˜A mount for a lady whose father hunts tigers,’ said the boy. He leaned back against the stall and stared appraisingly at me – as if he approved. I felt myself blush again. ‘I have the mount for you, miss,’ he said. ‘Right here. Follow me, miss.’
    He opened the door to the stall he’d been leaning against and I followed him in. ‘This is the horse for you, Miss Penelope,’ he said, slapping a horse on its side. It was the horse I’d seen him lead back into the yard. She whinnied, turning her black-brown head towards me. It was quite dark in the stall, but even in that dim light I could see the milky-white star blazed on her forehead. I fell in love with her at once.
    â€˜She’s beautiful,’ I murmured, putting out my hand