“That is evident,” she said. “And I am not out early. I am out late.”
“I understood Miss Bennet came at your request,” Mr. Needham said worriedly.
One of the girls snickered. “Ididn’t believe that. But we did it! Took all night.” She ran to where the harness waited, slung over a form. A second seat had been added behind mine, securely riveted on the long leather saddle skirt and straps. It even had a second of what Mr. Needham called lap belts.
“No,” I pronounced.
“You cannot go alone,” Mary said. “If you wish, I will explain the medical reasons. Convincingly, and very explicitly to ensure our audience comprehends. If you wish privacy, accept my opinion.”
If intimidation had the slightest effect on Mary, she would not have spent the autumn marching through London and staring down irate constables. But she enjoyed logic. “You cannot go without goggles. The wind will be tremendous. They did not makethosefor you overnight.”
“I have tied my spectacles in place. It will suffice.Youcan ride in front.” Mary unfolded her arms, then gently took my hand. “You must not attempt this alone. An inexperienced rider may keep their seat with care, but an unconscious rider is a hazard to herself.”
While arguments and counterarguments circled in my mind, the lanterns were growing concentric rings of shimmering light. Each flicker warned of the stabbing headache to follow.
“Is a second rider safe?” I asked Mr. Needham.
“Safe as one,” he said. “The added weight is nothing. You’d be two fleas for a beast that size.”
The stubborn part of me longed to refuse. But success mattered more than stubbornness. I would never have saved Jane last year without Mary’s help.
“Very well,” I said and looked into Mary’s brown eyes. “You know, I was worried that Darcy would try something like this.Hewould never have convinced me.”
Mary straightened her spectacles. “That is becausehewould insist on riding in front.”
Dressed warmly—ifwildly unconventionally—in trousers and leather coats, Mary and I waited at the edge of the clearing. Hints of day blued the eastern sky. The villagers had gathered to watch and whisper. I thought it better to wake them than shock them out of sleep. It no longer mattered if word got back to Darcy.
An owl floated across the clearing, noiseless, feathers splayed like fingers. Suddenly, it flapped in a frenzy, fleeing for the woods.
Thundering grew, more like pounding water than wind. The western stars vanished, and the sliver of moon was shrouded. I pressed a hand to my leather cap, forgetting it was securely strapped under my chin, and leaned into gusts that rolled pebbles and churned the trees.
Yuánchi settled, his tons of mass looming as dark ruby glints. His facetedeyes gleamed as his gaze met mine, then turned to Mary beside me, almost looping his neck as he examined her from several angles.
Mary. I miss her music. Will she and Georgiana play?
They had played for him in summer, in the hills, a lark when they brought instruments on our picnic. It made a profound impression. Yuánchi rarely bothered to learn human names.
I said to Mary, “He wishes you and Georgiana would play for him again.”
“I would enjoy that,” she said, addressing Yuánchi. “But we cannot this morning. Soon, I hope.”
Our harness makers stepped forward. Yuánchi prostrated himself, and they began fitting straps and buckles.
There had been two test flights from Chathford House, the second with burlap sacks of rice that certainly weighed more than Mary and I combined. All had gone smoothly, and I was impressed with how the straps resisted slippage, but for a little revenge I whispered to Mary, “Do you think the straps can hold two?” That was met with stony silence.
The harness buckles were tugged tight. Even with Yuánchi flush to the ground, the saddle was high. Stirrup-like footholds reached down like a short ladder. I took a breath, grabbed hold, and climbed.
The lap belt took two tries to fasten correctly. It was wide and padded, buckled around my waist, and attached to the harness in front and back. Really, it was clever. Would it work on a horse? Riders claimed it was better to fall clean than to be caught in a stirrup, but falling sounded unpleasant to me. I suppose one did not want to be dragged, smacking into rocks and trees. That would not be an issue in the sky.
Mary heaved up and swung her leg over behind me. Her trousers stopped mid-calf as they were one of several measured for me, but her ankles were hidden by riding boots. She bumped me while puzzling through her lap belt. This was a true two-seat saddle, far more roomy than riding double on a horse which pressed the riders together. We had a foot between us.
Finally, she said, “I am ready.”
“This is quite secure,” I mused. “I believe Icouldfly unconscious.”
“Too late,” she said dryly.
“I have just realized we will be arriving in London during daylight.”
