‘Stable boy,’ the girl called out, ‘would you water my horse with your master’s? I have a pressing urge to, how shall I say, visit the bushes over yonder.’
Only the slightest hint of a Highland accent coloured her speech; she had most likely been schooled in southern England, William surmised.
‘I er, aye, most certainly, m’lady,’ he stammered. Having spent most of his life in Scotland, William had long ago lost his East London accent; a strong Highland brogue had replaced it.
Smiling amicably, she dismounted and walked her horse over to him. She seemed to be possessed of an ease of manner and a subdued exuberance that verged on the flirtatious, yet William immediately sensed that there was more to her than mere charm and beauty. Indeed, just from the look in her eyes, it seemed as if he could tell that in her soul there existed something that mirrored his own fascination with everything surrounding them in this three-dimensional devil’s illusion, this exquisite and vast and nightmarish thing whose name was life.
‘Stable boy,’ she said as she reached him, her features slipping into an expression of understated disdain, ‘do you not stand in the presence of a lady?’
‘I, er, I apologise most um, most sincerely, m’lady,’ he stammered, rising to his feet, and almost tripping over himself in his haste to get up.
‘I wonder if you handle your horse with as much grace as your speech and gait would suggest,’ she teased, a glint of playfulness glimmering in her eyes.
Her lips parted in a sudden flash of a smile; a flirtatious exposing of perfectly straight, ivory white teeth.
‘I, um, I would have you know that I am the best horseman on my master’s estate,’ William declared in response. Something like bravado swelled his breast, and silvers of confidence began to return to his swimming head.
The girl seemed unimpressed, though. She smiled, half-mockingly, and tossed her head, showering her shoulders with a cascade of dark chestnut hair.
‘Oh are you now, stable boy? Better than your master? He is Sir Gordon MacTaggart, is he not?’
‘Aye, and aye!’ William answered, his heart boosting hot courage through his formerly constricted veins.
The girl laughed, and William could have sworn he saw something inviting glimmering in her eyes as she did so. She seemed to enjoy these light-hearted japes, and certainly appeared to delight richly in laughter itself. William, no stranger to witty exchanges of banter, quickly regained his composure, but as he thought of what he had just said, regret splashed a blush of embarrassment across his cheeks.
‘M’lady, I, erm, I must apologise most profusely for my, er, my slight against my master. I, er, I just…’ he spluttered, trailing off into mumbled confusion.
He could not meet her amber eyes; the striking beauty of them was at once too intense and overwhelming.
‘I’ll not tell your master of your slight,’ she said, seemingly unaware of William’s crippling nervousness. ‘This is a fine animal,’ she continued, changing the topic as she ran her fingers over the mane of William’s horse as it drank. ‘Sir MacTaggart breeds them for the Queen’s cavalry regiments, does he not?’
‘Aye, m’lady. This magnificent beast is destined for the battlefields ay Europe. It’s my job tae take care ay em, an’ also tae train ‘em in the arts ay jumping an’ dexterous movement, it is.’
‘The battlefields of Europe,’ she mused. ‘And what would a stable boy know of battlefields, pray tell?’
‘Nowt, m’lady,’ he readily admitted. ‘Nowt but tha’ men become heroes or corpses thereupon.’
Again her lips parted ever so slightly, and in the pits of her dimples and the glimmer of her eyes something beyond mere amusement sparkled.
‘Heroes, or corpses, you say? You strike me as having a poet’s soul.’
Her interest in William appeared to be growing; the girl was evidently a lover of poetry and the beauty of words.
‘I, um, Sir MacTaggart, m’lady, he instructed us in letters, y’see. I know how tae read an’ write, aye, an’ I certainly dae appreciate a good yarn or poem.’
‘Do you now? Perhaps I should hire you as my tutor then. My current master of letters is an abominably boring old creature, and all we ever read are histories of the ancient world and genealogies of lords and ladies.’
William raised his eyebrows with surprise.
‘You dunnae get tae read no novels, m’lady?’
‘Heavens no! My tutor regards novels as base entertainment for common plebeians.’
William blushed visibly at this, and the girl was quick to pick up on it. Her own cheeks then reddened, and it suddenly seemed as if her confidence was perhaps lacking.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said hastily. ‘I honestly meant no offence. I was simply repeating the words of my tutor, with whom I do not agree anyway. I myself firmly believe that all people should be free and equal, liberated from the bonds of the station of their birth in this ridiculously divided society.’
William shrugged and beamed a smile at her.
‘There’s no need tae apologise, m’lady. It’s just how the world is.’
She took her hat off and ran her fingers through her hair before speaking.
‘Let’s talk about novels again, why don’t we? As I mentioned, my tutor is of the opinion that they’re nothing but mind-rot. Do you fill your head with “mind-rot”?’
William felt excitement crackling its sparks within him now that he had the opportunity to converse on a topic with which he was familiar.
‘I suppose I dae, m’lady, although that’s not how I’d refer tae it, exactly. Ye have nae read no Charles Dickens then? He’s a mighty fine storyteller, he is!’
‘I’ve heard his name, but my tutor has nothing but bad things to say about the kind of things he writes,’ she answered, sighing whimsically. ‘You, know
