Death at Dawn - Caro Peacock [27]
‘Who is she?’
It seemed fitting to ask it that way, as if she were a person.
‘The papers are here, if you want to see.’
When Amos had gone for the headcollar he’d also fetched an old leather saddlebag. There were two papers inside. One, dated the day before my father’s last letter to me and written on a leaf torn from a pocket book, made over the mare, Esperance, to T. J. Lane Esq, in quittance of all debts incurred. The other was her pedigree. Now, as far as human lineage was concerned, my father was the least respectful person in the world and would sooner take off his hat to a crossing sweeper than a royal duke. Horses were a different matter. His friends joked that he could recite the breeding of any racehorse that ever ran, right back to the two that Noah took into the Ark. I unfolded the paper and …
‘Oh Lord.’
‘Something the matter, miss?’
‘She’s a great-great-granddaughter of Eclipse. And there’s the Regulus Mare in there, and she’s half sister to Touchstone that won the Ascot Gold Cup last year and … oh Lord.’
The more I read, the more my head reeled. I looked at the mare, half expecting a pair of silver wings to sprout from her withers. She looked back at me, gracious and affable.
‘He reckoned she was a good horse,’ Amos said.
The flies were gathering and he said he’d better take her back inside. I followed slowly, trying to get back some composure. We were standing in the shadowy box, watching her nosing at the hay in the manger, when a dark shape came hurtling out of nowhere so fast I felt the wind of it ruffling my hair, making straight as a lance for the mare. I shouted, moved to protect her, but the thing was too fast and landed on her back. Amos laughed.
‘Don’t worry, miss. It’s nowt but her cat.’
A cat like a miniature panther, sleek black fur, golden eyes staring at me as she stretched full-length along the horse’s back. Rancie hadn’t moved a muscle when she landed. Now she simply turned her head as if to make sure that the cat was comfortable and went back to her hay. The cat set up a purring, surprisingly loud for a small animal, that made the inside of the loosebox vibrate like a violin.
‘Won’t go anywhere without that cat,’ Amos said. ‘We tried chasing her out of the cart when we left Paris, but they made such a plunging and a caterwauling, the two of them, we had to bring her into the bargain.’
I ran a hand along the cat’s velvet back.
‘What’s she called?’
‘Lucy, I calls her.’
We watched horse and cat for a while, then went out into the sunshine. A man with white hair and a red face was standing outside the tack room, pretending to saddle-soap a pair of long reins on a hook, but looking our way.
‘The owner,’ Amos said, with a jerk of the head and a grimace.
I’d been thinking hard.
‘That money my father gave you to bring her over – I suppose it’s spent by now?’
He looked unhappy.
‘I can account for every farthing of it, if it hadn’t been most of it foreign, that is. But it was all spent on her.’
‘I’m sure it was. But it’s gone?’
He nodded.
‘And the owner’s watching us in case we flit with the mare?’
Another unhappy nod, along with a look of surprise. Amos didn’t know it, but it wasn’t the first time in my life I’d seen that look – halfway between obsequious and hostile – of a man doubting whether he’ll be paid. My father always did pay, though, as soon as the cards came right.
‘So we owe him for her keep. How much?’
‘Two pounds three shillings, he says. He reckons it would have been more, only I’ve been helping him out a bit.’
I slid the cameo ring from my finger and put it into Amos’s large palm.
‘Would you please sell that in the town for me and pay him what’s owed. If there’s any over, keep it for your trouble.’
He looked at me doubtfully.
‘Please,’ I said. ‘I should be most greatly obliged if you would.’
His reluctant fingers closed over it.
‘What do you want me to do with Rancie, then?’
I said I’d let him know as soon as I’d decided, as