One Glorious Ambition Read Online Free PDF Page B

slowly. Dorothea caught her breath, then pulled arein against Mercy’s chestnut neck and rode the animal back to where Mr. Frank waited.
    “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
    “You didn’t hurt her. Just confused her. Horses communicate without words. It’s the little things that send the message. People do that too. Not bad for a first time.”
    Mr. Frank reached for the bridle, and Dorothea leaned forward and patted Mercy’s neck. She liked the smell of sweat and leather and the silky feel of the horse and the calm beating of her own heart.
    “You’ll get the hang of it. Now, if you’ve time, let’s try that again. This time turn your alarm into courage. You’re learning something new and so is Mercy. It’s a dance, and you want both of you to enjoy it at the end.”
    Dorothea smiled. She had already enjoyed it, even the fear that rose up when she felt off balance in the saddle. She had managed it. She was in control.
    As she and Mary rode back to the house in the carriage, Dorothea leaned her head against the leather carriage pad.
    Mary said, “I love riding with my friends and catching up on the news. Soon you’ll be able to ride along with us. It will be much more fun than simply riding by yourself in circles in the paddock.”
    “Riding by myself is perfect. It isn’t being alone. I have the horse to be with.”
    “Quite. But being with people is what riding is about, Dolly.”
    Dorothea chose not to argue. Instead she marveled that during all that time of instruction she never once thought about Charles or her family.

    Her cousin Mary showed her how to adorn her hair for the weekly galas, and now, several months into her life with the Fiskes, Dorothea looked in the mirror askance.
    “It looks ridiculous.” She fingered the beads wrapped into a high mound at the top of her head. She was already taller than many likely suitors. Why add three inches to her height?
    “It’s the fashion,” Mary insisted. Dorothea found her cousin quite firm in her views of proper etiquette and much less interested in the meaning of Thomas Gray’s poems. “We do it this way in Boston society. I don’t know why you resist.”
    “But if the fashion is meant to attract, then why do something that makes me stand out for the wrong reasons?”
    “It isn’t wrong. It’s the way we do it, so it’s the right way. You want to blend in, demonstrate that you’re aware of what’s proper.”
    “I’m like milkweed in a poor pasture.” Dorothea pulled the beads from her hair and unwound the chignon that had forced it into thick twists. “Being plain and simple shows elegance too. This will be better. It will.”
    She crossed her arms and caught her image in the mirror as that of a petulant Charles. She lowered her arms.
    Mary pursed her lips. “Your hair with that tint of burgundy is a crowning gift. Women of our station must show an awareness ofour gifts. I’ll have Beatrice come in and salvage it for you. I need to dress. We don’t want to be late for our guests. That nice young man you sat next to at the choral event is coming.” Dorothea wrinkled her nose. “Quite. You must make the effort at least.”
    “Quite,” Dorothea said to her cousin’s departing back. Dorothea stared at herself in the mirror. The beads and fluff in her hair made her look like an ostrich wearing a wig. Then words from Gray’s “Ode to Adversity” came to her: “Teach me to love and to forgive, exact my own defects to scan.”
    “My own defects to scan,” she said to the image and sighed. She had many defects. Her height. Her tendency to seriousness instead of assuming a welcoming smile. She could recognize Mary’s generosity in teaching her. She ought to be more generous in her nature and thank her. She redid the beads on a shorter, powdered wig and reminded herself to thank Mary for her guidance. Then she wondered if Monsieur Brun would be present at this dinner. She enjoyed his company though he was old enough to be her