The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

T HE NIGHT BEFORE THE BIG race, Charlotte yanked Anna into her bedchamber.

“Ow! Charlotte, my arm!”

“Do be quiet!” Charlotte peeked up and down the hall to make sure the coast was clear, then shut the door and leaned back against it. “We can’t have Gran catching us.”

Anna rubbed her arm. “Catching us at what?”

Charlotte grinned and spun Anna around to face a riding habit laid out across the bed. “Catching us at this !”

The riding habit was cut of deep scarlet, with white slashes at the sides of the skirt and white facings on the double-breasted jacket, which was heavily frogged in gold and fastened with two rows of square-cut gold buttons.

“Scarlet and white?” Anna’s chin quivered. “The Barton racing colors?”

“ Your racing colors! I had Josephine cut the jacket large, so you’ll be able to move freely. And there’s a matching silk for your cap, of course.”

Anna threw herself at Charlotte and squeezed her tight. “You’re the best friend anyone could have. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do! So why are you looking glum?”

Anna wanted to cut her tongue out, but it had to be said. “I have to wear breeches tomorrow. Archer’s not trained on sidesaddle, and wearing a skirt while riding astride would be a terrible disadvantage. I know breeches will cause a scandal, but after all, Marie Antoinette had her portrait painted in them, and so did Catherine the Great, and—”

“Not to worry.” Charlotte smirked and gave the skirt a shake, revealing its secret. “It’s a split skirt. Josephine and I worked on the design together. When you walk, it looks quite normal, but you can ride astride with perfect modesty. And we kept the skirt narrow, so it won’t slow you down.”

“It’s genius!”

“Of course it is!” Charlotte patted Anna’s hand, quite pleased. “Now, are you nervous for tomorrow?

“Not even a little bit. With a habit like this, how could I possibly lose?”

Despite Anna’s assurances, Charlotte looked queasy the next morning as the carriage bounced the two women toward the racecourse Marby had secured outside Hampton. Anna had sent for William to bring her racing tack, and he’d taken Archer to a stables near the track the night before the meet. William had strict instructions to give Archer a light ride that morning to loosen his muscles. Archer was to be watered and fed early, and William himself was not to touch a drop of liquor—ale included—on pain of dismemberment.

“You’re much too calm!” Charlotte accused.

“In truth, I’m quite looking forward to it.” Anna smoothed her scarlet-and-white skirt and ran the race through her mind. Archer was as ready as he could be, although she wished she’d had the chance to train properly. She’d been out on a horse almost every day since she’d arrived in London, but sedate canters through the park were hardly real riding. Still, Byrne had been confined to London as well, and wouldn’t know what proper training looked like to begin with.

She was going to beat him, of that she had no doubt. The only question was how badly. She didn’t want to humiliate him, of course. Except that something small and gleeful inside most certainly did. It filled her head with whispered urges to run her heart out and wipe the smugness clear off his face. Off Marby’s face. Off all the smirking faces of all the people who had dared to doubt. Ten to one? She’d mash those odds into their teeth.

A hum, which grew gradually into a roar, penetrated Anna’s thoughts. The two young ladies glanced at each other and, tossing aside every rule of etiquette ever drummed into them, crammed their heads out the window for a look. The carriage cleared the tree line and open land stretched out before them, grassy, flat, and so packed with people that even Charlotte sucked in her breath.

Young men in shiny top hats, their vouchers flying like snow, lounged up against the white rails that bound the track as young women and their escorts strolled around the grounds. Picnickers of all ages tucked into great baskets from the comfort of their curricles and landaus, while latecomers wheeled about to find a spot, complaining loudly. In such a vast sea of people, Anna could barely make out the track.

“This race”—Charlotte gave Anna a shaky look—“has gotten entirely out of hand.”

Anna pushed up on Charlotte’s shoulder to try to get a look at the course. “Not to worry, Archer loves a crowd.”

“I wasn’t thinking of Archer, you madcap! I was thinking of Gran and what she’ll do when she finds out.”

Anna gasped and sucked herself inside the carriage, pulling Charlotte with her.

“She’s here! Charlotte, your grandmother’s here !”

The young ladies exchanged a horrified glance.

“Are you sure?” Charlotte demanded.

Anna inched toward the window and peeked carefully out again. “It’s her, plain as day. In Mr. Frith’s landau, munching sandwiches with Lady Cardiff and Dame FitzHerbert.” Anna froze. “Charlotte! She’s spotted us!”

Charlotte inhaled sharply. “Then there’s nothing for it. You run the race, I’ll hide in here, and we’ll simply pretend… No! We Avetons are not cowards. You run the race, I’ll face down Gran, and—”

“She’s waving at us! Her whole landau is waving.” Anna’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes flooded. “They’re… they’re holding up little flags with my racing colors. Charlotte, I think they’re cheering for me!”

Charlotte jostled Anna away from the window for her own quick, cautious peek before waving madly back. “Of course they’re cheering! Good old Gran, you can always depend on her. Now, we’d best mop up. I refuse to spoil our entrance by weeping.”

The crowd roared for the young women as they stepped down from their carriage. Charlotte emerged first with a regal wave and Anna followed, so caught up in the crowd’s euphoria that she almost leapt off the last step. Another great cheer went up, from the females in the crowd at least, and Anna lifted her hand to give a stuttering little wave, half-mortified by the attention and half-fizzing with it.

Marby pushed his way to them, thoroughly overexcited. “There you are!”

“Where’s Archer?” Anna raised up to her tiptoes, still trying to catch a glimpse of the track. The smell of fresh earth and grass rushed through her, and her heart beat a bit more purposefully, her blood zipping busily through her body.

“Your man is walking him now, but I wanted to tell you—”

“Take me to him?” Anna said, as Marby cleared a path through the crowd. “We need to walk the course.”

“Yes, certainly. But there’s something I must—”

Anna ducked under the rails and onto the track, reveling in the feel of good racing dirt under her boots. “Where’s the start?”

Marby followed Charlotte under the fence.

“Just behind us. But, Lady Anna—”

Anna spotted Archer on the far side of the course with William on his back and another horse beside him.

“Who’s that chestnut with Archer?” She squinted over at them. “That’s not Saltram. Where’s Byrne?”

“If you’d stop yammering for half a second, I’ll tell you!” cried Marby. “We found a better challenger, so Byrne stepped aside.”

Anna was still eyeing the horses. The chestnut was too far away to see clearly, but there was something familiar about his configuration, the ugly mug of a head too big for the body. She would have sworn she knew that gait, the way the feet flashed out when the horse walked. Her stomach sank even as her mind still puzzled, as if her instincts sensed the trouble before her brain caught up.

“Lady Anna!”

A voice boomed out behind Anna and caused her heart to seize. She turned slowly around.

No, no, no! Please, no!

Lord Hartley bounded up the track, his smile white and blinding. “I came straight down from Scotland when I heard. Isn’t it marvelous? We get to race at last!”

“This is your fault!”

Charlotte poked her finger into Marby’s chest as their small group huddled together on the track near the start. She jabbed him with increasing violence as the time on his pocket watch ticked down toward the start.

“My fault!” Marby yelped. “How is it my fault? You said Anna would run against any lord in London. Hartley’s a lord! He came back to London! How was I to know you didn’t mean him ?”

“Hartley wasn’t in London at the time we made the—oh, never mind!” Charlotte spun on Anna. “There’s no getting out of it. You’ll simply have to win.”

“He’s riding Eclipse , Charlotte. Eclipse !”

Charlotte looked at her blankly.

“ Eclipse ! Out of the Darley Arabian?” Anna thought she might be sick.

“Am I meant to know the name of every horse in England?”

“For heaven’s sake! The Darley Arabian is only one of the three founding stallions of—” Anna stopped midsentence.

Her face collapsed and her hopes fell with it. She’d been so proud and stupid.

So vastly stupid.

“You don’t understand. Eclipse has never lost a race. I could beat Hartley, if our mounts were evenly matched. At least, I think I could. He’s more of a trainer than a jockey, you see—”

“But I thought Archer—”

“Archer and Eclipse are different ages. They’ve never raced head to head. Hartley must have brought him down from Newmarket, just as I did with Archer. The hindquarters on that horse—I’ve never seen the like! And the way he—”

“Anna! Get hold of yourself.”

“All our work, all the money! I’ve lost it.”

Charlotte grabbed Anna’s shoulders and shook her. “Anna Reston! I have not been forced to listen to you blather on about oats, and bridles, and twelve years’ worth of excruciating equine genealogy, just to watch—”

Anna’s stomach heaved. “We’ll lose two thousand pounds. Oh dear lord, I’m going to be si—”

“I couldn’t give a damn about the money!” Charlotte yelled. The sentiment seemed to surprise her, because she paused briefly and collected herself. “Well, of course I give a damn about the money.” She shook Anna again, hard enough to snap her teeth together. “The point is, you must try ! If you lose, so be it. But you will not fall apart, so help me god. You cannot give up without a fight !”

The words seemed to penetrate Anna’s skull, or perhaps the violent shaking had jolted her awake. “Oh, all right!”

She yanked herself away and stalked over to take Archer’s bridle. William, who had been eavesdropping madly, developed a sudden fascination with the patch of dirt he was standing on.

Anna rested her forehead against Archer’s neck, closed her eyes, and let herself take in the deeply comforting smell of horse sweat.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The words buzzed loud in her head, but they weren’t helpful, so she pushed them aside. Anna made herself open her eyes and look at Eclipse, who had come around the curve and was now being walked up and down the track a short distance ahead.

He was an unassuming horse, no beauty. There was nothing threatening about him, not at first glance. But Anna had seen him run before and it was as if his strange, rather awkward shape only made sense once he hit the track, that big head carried low and flat, those shambling legs skimming long and straight and impossibly fast over the ground. When Eclipse crossed the finish well ahead of the rest of the field, the crowd had erupted with cheers, but Anna’s eyes had pricked with tears. She had no defense against the clean, pure beauty of that run. It was like seeing the mark of God in the motion of a horse.

Her grandfather had seen it too. He’d given her a rough pat on her shoulder and walked away, but they’d both known. Eclipse was the horse of the century.

Just not her horse.

William handed Anna her crop and cap. “Shall I give you a leg up, my lady?”

Anna buckled the chin strap, stepped into William’s cupped hands, and let him toss her gently into the saddle. She clicked Archer into a sharp walk, William jogging beside them.

“What do you reckon, William?” She jerked her chin toward Eclipse. “Weaknesses?”

William grimaced. “Temperament, maybe. He’s a tetchy bastard.”

That was in full evidence already. While Archer preened along under the calls of the crowd and his ears twitched to catch every compliment, Eclipse kept his head low and swaying, like a snake’s. His ears were flat with warning, and with every few steps forward, he skittered one step sideways, away from the press at the rails.

Anna shook her head. “Some horses run better angry.”

William eyed Anna from under his cap. “Jockey, then. All things equal, I’d put my dosh on you.”

Anna’s mouth flattened. “All things aren’t equal, William, that’s exactly the—” She squinted ahead at Hartley as firecrackers went off inside. “The weight! Those arrogant bastards, they haven’t assigned me a weight penalty! How much does Hartley have on me, would you say?”

William broke out in a grin. “Four stone, easy.”

Four stone, an angry horse that hated the fuss, and a crowd that pressed close against the railings, more raucous than most. Eclipse had never lost a race, never even faced much of a challenge as far as Anna could recall. Her face went hot as she thought of a strategy. One so brash, so reckless, her heart turned over.

Could it work?

Absolutely not. It was a two-mile race, and Eclipse was a sprinter.

But then again, Archer was a sprinter too, as fluid as a length of ribbon when he ran. And Hartley outweighed her by fifty pounds. Fifty pounds! Eclipse might as well run with an anvil on his back.

Anna’s heart quickened. “When’s the last time Hartley raced, would you guess? Really raced, not just larking.”

William cocked his head. “I’d say it’s been a while, my lady. Bet you could show him a few tricks.”

Calculations ticked through Anna’s brain. She’d need to start clean as a whip crack, she’d need to grab the inside rail and hold it. Most of all, she would need luck, loads of it.

“FIVE MINUTES!” Marby called.

Anna gathered her reins and her courage. She turned Archer and walked toward the cluster of people standing at the start.

“Right!” Marby called out as Hartley and Anna approached. “It’s two laps around, first one to cross the line is the winner. Byrne and Locke will watch the finish and serve as judges. A fall is a disqualification, and heed my words: anything havey-cavey from either team will result in immediate—”

Hartley gave a startled laugh. “Really, Marby, is that necessary?”

Marby shot a dark look at Charlotte. “Nothing wrong with a few precautions.”

But Charlotte wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy staring off over the crowd, her eyebrows drawing closer and closer together as she tracked something in the distance. It was a phaeton—handsome, high-sprung, and deeply familiar—taking the drive at a brisk clip.

“Good heavens, the day wants only this,” cried Charlotte. “My brother’s arrived!”