anything important.
After the sun has disappeared, I learn that Corr has been given a makeshift shelter in one of the coves on the beach because he cannot walk back to the Malvern Yard. I manage to escape from the mob and make it partway down the cliff path. There in the twilight I see Sean Kendrick sitting against the cliff, eyes closed, and I would have gone to him, but fair-haired George Holly is already shaking him awake and coaxing him away. Even from here, I see that Sean’s expression is wrecked by everything that he’s lost. Holly gives me a far-off nod to send me on, but it’s not until Sean meets my eyes that I lead Dove back toward home.
Finn catches up to me on the way home, skipping a little until he falls into step with me. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. For a few moments we walk in silence, the only sounds the pad of our feet on the dirt, and Dove’s hooves occasionally chipping pebbles as she walks. Dusk makes everything seem smaller around us.
“You’re frowning,” he says finally.
I know he’s right; I can feel the furrow between my eyebrows. “I’m counting, that’s why.” There’s not much joy in it, though. The numbers always come up the same: enough for us to save the house, not enough for Sean to buy Corr, even if Malvern would let him.
Finn says, “You should be celebrating! Gabe says he’s making a feast for us at home!” Even after this long day, he can’t keep the spring out of his own step. He’s like a colt on a windy day.
I do my best to keep the sting out of my words, because none of this is Finn’s fault, but a crumb of bitterness creeps in. “I can’t celebrate while Sean Kendrick’s down there with a broken horse he can’t afford because of me!”
“How do you know Sean Kendrick even wants him still?”
I don’t have to be told. I know Sean still wants Corr. It’s never been about the racing.
Finn glances over and gets my answer in my expression. “All right, then,” he says. “Why can’t he afford him?”
Saying it out loud makes it worse, though. I explain, “Sean had to win to get the rest of the money. He didn’t have enough.”
For a long moment, there’s just the slap of our shoes again, the scrape of Dove’s hooves, the wind gusting across our ears. I wonder if Holly’s taken Sean away from the beach. I wonder if Sean will sleep down there. He’s usually so pragmatic, but not where Corr’s concerned.
“Why don’t we give him some money?” asks Finn.
I swallow. “I didn’t win enough for both the house and Corr.”
Finn rummages in his pocket. “We can use this.”
When I see the fat wad of bills in his hand, I stop so fast that Dove rams her head into my shoulder. I demand, “Finn -! Finn Connolly, where did you get that?”
I can see that Finn’s having to try very hard not to show me a smile. The effort of it gives him the frog face like nobody’s business. I can’t stop looking at the roll of money in his hand, nearly as fat as the purse for the race.
He says, “Forty-five to one.”
It takes me a long moment to puzzle out where I recognize the number from – the chalkboard at Gratton’s. Suddenly, I understand where the rest of the money from the biscuit tin went.
“You gambled on -” I can’t even finish the sentence.
Finn starts walking again, and now there’s a bit of strut to it. He says, “Dory Maud said you were a good bet.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
My mother always told me that you should wear your best clothing when you are angry, because it would scare people. I’m not angry, but I’m in the mood to be terrifying, so I take great care in the morning after the races. I spend an hour before my mother’s oval mirror in her room, turning my ginger hair around a brush and twisting the curls with my fingers. I keep an image of Peg Gratton’s hair in my head as I sort it all out. There turned out to be much less of it when it was all going in the same direction, and when I pin it back, I see my mother’s face in the mirror.
I go to her closet and look at her dresses, but none of them look like they would scare anyone. So instead I find a collared shirt and put on a pair of breeches and my boots after I polish all of the beach that was caked on them. I borrow her coral bracelet and her matching coral necklace. Then I step out into the hall.
“Kate,” Gabe says, startled. He sits at the kitchen table and stares. I heard him packing last night. “Where are you going?”
“I am going to the Malvern Yard.”
“Well, you sure do look nice.”
I open the door. Outside, the morning is pastel and mild, scented with wood smoke, as soft as yesterday was hard. “I know.”
I strap my schoolbag over my back and take the bicycle because Dove has earned a day off if she’s earned anything, and I bike through the benevolent day to the Malvern Yard.
As before, when I get to the yard, it is bustling with activity. Grooms with horses going out to pasture, riders taking thoroughbreds out to the gallops for their run, stable boys sweeping down the cobbles.
“Kate Connolly,” says one of the grooms. “Sean’s not here.”
I didn’t think he would be, but I don’t like to hear it anyway. Still, I say, “I’m looking for Benjamin Malvern, actually.”
“He’ll be up at the house – is he expecting you?”
“Yes,” I say, because if he wasn’t expecting me before, he’ll be expecting me when I walk in.
“Well, then, let me,” says the groom. He pulls open the gate for me and my bicycle.
I thank him and walk my bicycle up to the Malvern house. It sits behind the stable and is a big, grand old thing. Like Malvern himself, it’s impressive and powerful-looking but not particularly handsome. I lean my bicycle against the wall and walk to the front door and knock.
For a long moment there is no answer, and then Benjamin Malvern opens the door.
“Good morning,” I say, and I step past him into his center hall. It is a naked thing, just wide-open ceiling and a little drawing-room table against the wall. I see a sitting room beyond it and a single cup sitting in the middle of a white tablecloth.
“I was just having tea,” he says.
“Good timing, then,” I reply. I don’t wait for him to invite me and instead step into the sitting room. Like the center hall, it’s nearly empty. Just a round table in the middle of a high-ceilinged room with nothing but brass sconces on the walls. It seems rather lonely. I wonder if he was just sitting in here wondering if the sea would ever spit out the piebald or Mutt Malvern again. I sit in a chair opposite to the one already ajar.
Malvern’s mouth works. “Milk and sugar?”
I fold my arms on the table and eye him. “I’ll have what you’re having.”
He raises an eyebrow before making me a cup of his odd tea. He pushes it to me and settles down opposite, crossing his legs and leaning back.
“What brings you blowing into my house like a hurricane, Kate Connolly? It’s quite rude.”
“I expect it is. I’ve come for three things, really,” I say. I tip the cup against my lips and he watches me. I close one eye. The tea is almost precisely like drinking a scone or licking the carpet. “Three things I’d like.”
“That’s quite a lot of things to like.”
I reach into the schoolbag and place a small stack of notes on the tablecloth. “The first thing I’d like to do is pay everything owed on the house.”
Malvern eyes the money but doesn’t touch it. “And the second?”
I take another big drink of tea for emphasis. It requires quite a bit of heroics on my part but I manage. “I’d like you to give me a job.”
