Charlotte went back upstairs then to unpack her bags. She had to leave some of her clothes in her suitcase, for lack of closet and cupboard space, but she didn’t mind. She changed into her riding clothes, and was putting on her hat when Lucy walked into the room, and studied her keenly. Her riding habit was simple, but it was obvious that everything she owned was of the highest quality, perfectly cut, in fine fabrics, and fit Charlotte’s tiny form impeccably.
“Are they your parents?” Lucy asked, referring to Felicity and Charles, and Charlotte shook her head, not sure what to say, and how to explain them. She noticed Lucy’s East End accent immediately.
“They’re friends who offered to drive me here, since they have a car, and my parents don’t, and they couldn’t leave London.” It was all she could think of to say, to explain them, but a closer look would have identified them as employees, which Lucy hadn’t noticed. The thought never occurred to her, although she could see that Charlotte must be wellborn, from her manners, her accent, and her clothes. She was very pleasant to Lucy. “Do you ride?” Lucy responded by shaking her head with a look of panic.
“I’m afraid of horses. They look like big frightening beasts to me. What do your parents do?” She wanted to know more about the intriguing newcomer. They spoke with very different accents. Charlotte with the distinct diction of the upper classes, and Lucy’s was pure London commoner. They came from two very different worlds.
There was a pause as Charlotte sought rapidly for an answer to Lucy’s question about her parents. She hadn’t thought of what to say if anyone asked her. “My father works for the government as a civil servant, and my mother is a secretary.” It was a long way from the truth, but the best she could come up with. Lucy was a tall dark-haired girl with a plain pale face, and she seemed fascinated by Charlotte, though not particularly warm, and somewhat awkward. Charlotte felt like an intruder on the young woman’s turf, which was how Lucy viewed her. Everything had been perfect there till then, and she had Henry’s attention for herself, although he didn’t speak to her often or at great length. At dinner, he spoke mostly to his parents about the farms, and ignored her.
“That sounds fancy,” Lucy commented. “Where do you live?”
“In Putney,” Charlotte answered quickly, and Lucy nodded, satisfied with her response. It was a pleasant middle-class neighborhood, and she believed her.
“My father was a cobbler and my mother was a seamstress. She used to help him at the shop sometimes.” Lucy’s eyes filled with tears as she said it, and Charlotte wanted to reach out to her but didn’t dare. “Do you have brothers and sisters? I don’t have none. I’m alone now, and I will be when I go back to London after the war.”
“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte said as Lucy nodded and turned away, as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, and Charlotte adjusted her riding hat, and said she had two sisters, and then picked up her crop and gloves, to go out to the stables. She could hardly wait to see Pharaoh, bringing him here was almost like having a friend from home with her. Charles had told her that her father was paying for his upkeep, so as not to be a burden on the Hemmingses. Her mother had told her that they were paying for her to stay there too. The Hemmingses were grateful to have the assistance, although slightly embarrassed to take it. They had no income from the farms at the moment, since all of what they grew was controlled by the government’s Ministry of Food, and they ate whatever was left. Several of the wives on the farms had planted home gardens, and kept chickens and rabbits to eat. And their daughters had joined the Women’s Land Army and become Land Girls.
Lucy watched her go as Charlotte ran lightly down the stairs in her impeccable, perfectly shined riding boots. She saw the earl dozing in the small drawing room as she left. The countess had gone upstairs for a nap, and there was no one around, as she left the house and walked the short distance to the stables, circled by beautiful old trees. The gardens along the way were in need of attention and were sadly overgrown. The gardeners had been among the first to leave. One of the grooms was walking what appeared to be a very old horse, which Charlotte assumed was the Thoroughbred that the earl rode, when he still did. The countess had mentioned that he suffered from arthritis and seldom rode anymore.
She strode into the stables, and heard Pharaoh whinny the moment she walked in. He recognized her step and sensed her, and she found his stall easily. He nuzzled up next to her, and she saddled him with the saddle and tack the palace grooms had brought to Yorkshire for her, and then changed her mind. She removed the sidesaddle, and took one of the ordinary men’s saddles she found in the tack room, so she could ride astride. She shortened the stirrups to the right height for her. She found a groom to give her a leg up, and a moment later, she was heading down a path toward the lake, passing under splendid tall trees which provided shade along the path. She was warm in her jacket but didn’t care, as she reached a field and gave Pharaoh his head. He was as happy as his mistress as they took off at full speed. They galloped for half an hour, rode past the lake, and then doubled back at a slow canter, as she smiled at the scenery around her. It was a beautiful place, and she didn’t feel quite so far from home with Pharaoh to ride. As she slowed to a trot on the way back, Henry Hemmings approached on his horse and caught up with her. He looked at her admiringly.
“You’re a bruising rider. I saw you galloping in the fields before. He’s a splendid animal, fit for a queen,” he said smiling at her, and for an instant, she wondered if he knew who she was, but she was sure he didn’t.
“He’s a good boy. He was a gift from my father,” she said.
“I’ll race you when you get used to the terrain around here,” he offered and she nodded, looking pleased. “Although Winston is no match for him, but we’ll try.” She laughed and smiled as she looked at him, feeling more comfortable than when she arrived.
“It’s lovely here,” she complimented him, as he rode the big gray horse, who was a fine specimen, but didn’t have the bloodline Pharaoh did, and would have a hard time beating him. She noticed that Henry had warm brown eyes, and a shock of dark hair. His riding clothes were old and worn, and she suspected had been his father’s from long ago, since they were of another era. There was nothing fashionable about Henry, but he was open and friendly, and happy to have another young person there, and he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was a beautiful girl. He knew that Lucy had a crush on him, but it wasn’t reciprocal, so he ignored it and pretended not to know. She was a big, awkward, plain girl, and not very interesting to talk to. Her education in a London school had been brief, and her interests were limited. She had helped out in her father’s shop every day and sometimes with her mother’s sewing, she had told them, which didn’t interest Henry. She hated horses, which were his passion, as they were Charlotte’s. He liked Lucy. She was a decent girl, and he could sense that she was lonely and wanted to talk at times, but they had nothing in common. And in contrast, he was dazzled by Charlotte, who seemed like a bright shining star to him. She had a much bigger presence than he had expected judging from her size. And she was a remarkable horsewoman.