She headed toward the lake, where the view of the house would be blocked by trees. The sun was warm on her face, but a cool breeze blew off the water. Buttercup was well behaved, requiring the bare minimum of instruction. Once she made it into the shadowed area, Nivea looked for a stump or log to begin her first lesson. On the left, she spotted a large stone and steered her horse alongside it.
Patting Buttercups’s neck, Nivea whispered, “Now, don’t be afraid. I’m new at this. I promise not to hurt you, but you have to be patient. If you are good, I have an apple in my pocket for you.”
She positioned herself in front of the boulder and took a deep breath. This was the part she hated. How was she to contort her body to get out of the saddle and onto the rock? If she lifted her leg off the pommel, she was sure to drop like a stone. Then she would either fall under the horse’s hooves and be trampled, or smash against the rock and bleed to death. Neither alternative appealed to her.
She shifted in her seat, feeling a trickle of nervous sweat behind her knee. Buttercup snorted her impatience.
“All right, girl. Don’t fuss. I’m going to do this.” Having said it out loud, she found the courage to dislodge her leg from the saddle. Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears, it drowned out all other sounds in the forest. She inched her weight forward keeping a firm hold on the horse. There was a moment of panic when she could feel nothing under her feet but air. But then her feet touched the stone’s surface and she could breath once again. In her excitement, she turned back toward the horse, and nearly fell when her skirt got tangled around her legs. Flailing, her hands braced against Buttercup’s solid flank, and she managed to regain her balance.
“There!” With a triumphant smile, she stood on the rock like a conquering hero. Buttercup turned her head toward Nivea and snorted, making her laugh. “Yes, I know, for most people it’s not much of an achievement, but for me, it’s quite a milestone. Now, you will have to be tolerant old dear, for I am going to try and get back up.”
Nivea gave herself a moment to savor the victory before steeling herself for the real challenge. She leaned her torso over the saddle, kicked her skirt out of the way, and tried to tug herself up.
That didn’t work.
She gave a little hop. That didn’t work either.
Buttercup shifted her weight and turned her head to see what was going on.
Nivea blew a loose piece of hair from her eyes and reached up to pull the horse closer. “I know. I told you to be patient. I’ll get it.” She leaned into the horse and jumped harder. It wasn’t enough to get her all the way up, and she slid back down onto the rock.
“Uuuurg! Why is this so hard?”
She once again reached over and flung herself upward. With an ungainly twist, and a most unladylike grunt, she managed to pull herself up onto the saddle.
Buttercup took two steps forward before Nivea could grab the reins and get herself settled. She took a deep steadying breath and patted the horse’s neck. “Good girl. That wasn’t so bad.”
The horse nickered, but Nivea let it pass. “Enough of that for one day. Now we can take a stroll.” She prodded the horse forward.
Really, this wasn’t so bad. The woods were colored with a multitude of greens, hiding happy birds chirping to one another. Buttercup strolled along, her hooves drumming out a muffled beat on the packed dirt path.
Just as she reached the open field and decided to turn back home, she heard a whoop and turned to see whom it was. Abby and Thomas were galloping across the field; Abby’s dark hair streamed out behind her, no sign of a hat. They waved at Nivea and slowed to approach at a sedate pace.
“Good morning. How are you today?” Abby asked as she drew alongside her. Her face was glowing with excitement and exercise. Thomas looked happy as well, but settled his features into more of a stoic expression. With the scar on his face, he looked almost fierce, but Nivea knew better.
Smiling, she answered. “I’m fine. It was such a nice morning, I thought I’d take a ride.”
Thomas shot her a questioning look. Nivea was sure he realized in all the years he’d known William, he’d never seen her on horseback. Fortunately, he was too polite to comment.
“Did you have a nice race?” Nivea asked.
Abby smiled and the look of love she exchanged with Thomas was almost embarrassing. “Yes. These horses are wonderful. I could not wait to stretch their legs. They are magnificent creatures. Thomas, you are going to have to talk to William about selling this one to me. She’s perfect.”
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “I thought Arabelle was perfect. And Mystic. How may perfect horses do you need?”
Abby shrugged and patted the horse’s shoulder.
“So, Thomas, the other men are all off hunting. Didn’t you wish to go with them?” Nivea asked.
His eyes grew dark and shuttered. “I do not enjoy the sport. I have seen enough killing, thank you.”
Recalling that his scar was a result of a battle wound, her face warmed. “Oh—yes—I see—well—” she stuttered.
Taking note of her embarrassment, Abby reached over and patted her husband’s leg. “Let’s go, luv, I’ll race you to the stable.”
He smiled and whipped his horse to a gallop, but Abby had already sprung ahead.
If she were a betting woman, Nivea would put her money on the lady.
By the time she reached the stable, grooms were already rubbing down the pair’s horses. One of them stopped to help Nivea dismount. She almost felt graceful as she slid onto the mounting block.
Guests were starting to stroll around the yard. Hoping they wouldn’t notice her riding habit, she darted up to her room. Changing into a delicate pink morning dress, she headed outside where the women and children were talking and playing games. Her sister-in-law, Betsy, was holding little Anthony under a giant parasol, querying Nicholas’s sisters about teething.
Caroline was playing leapfrog with five rambunctious boys who were soon to be her nephews. Nivea joined her sister, helping the littlest ones climb onto the backs of their much larger brothers so they could spring off with glee. Over and over, they would push off the giggling lumps, before curling up at the front of the line to await their turn.
Little Daphne, one of Briar’s twin girls, came up to Nivea and tugged on her skirt. “Aunt Nivvy, I’m tired. Will you pick me up?”
“Certainly, poppet. I’m a little tired too. Would you like me to carry you over to the shade and tell you a story?”
The girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes! I love stories. Can you tell Eloise, too?” The little girl’s face was full of hope, eager to share the moment with her twin.
Nivea’s smile widened. “Of course. Let’s gather up all your friends.”
Nivea invited the youngest children and their wilting mothers to join her on a bench in the garden under the cooling shade of a crabapple tree. “Why don’t you stretch out on the grass, while I tell you a story?”
“What kind of story, Aunt Nivvy?”
“Would you like to hear a poem I wrote about my cat, Samuel?”
“Yes, yes!” they all cheered. “Tell us about Smanuall.”
Nivea smiled at their enthusiasm. Drawing Caroline’s youngest nephew, little Colin, onto her lap, she began.
Tabby Cat, fat and lazy
lying in the sun.
Eyes