“Mr. Robins said if I tell him what I have done, then he will show me why he picked some of the horses over others.”
“My! That is quite the”—He’s not quite four!—“undertaking.”
William nodded. “Mr. Robins says I have a—a good eye”—he glanced at Nanny for confirmation, which she gave with a nod—“for horses. And that I have, um, I have—” He looked up again at Nanny.
She bent slightly at the waist and whispered, “A fine seat.”
“Yes! A fine seat! He showed me how one horse was going lame, although it was just beginning.”
“Poor thing.”Why was Edmund selling some of their livestock?
“I know. Mr. Robins said she would probably go to some farm to rest her leg, with big fields full of sweet grass and fresh hay.”
“That would be a kindness.” And probably was a lie to save William from knowing the real truth of what happened to lame horses. Judith had always had a fondness for the groom—now she remembered why. He had been equally kind with Robert and George as they learned to ride.
“I know. I want to go to where they sell them. To seeallof them. I begged him!”
Judith stared at him.My baby boy at the auction yard at Tattersall’s? Over my dead—
“But Mr. Robins said no.” His pout returned. “I hate being too young.”
Judith bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling.Thank you, Mr. Robins! My baby!She sniffed. “I am sure Mr. Robins knows best.”
He tipped over one of the horses. “It’s not fair.”
Judith took a deep breath, knowing she might regret what she was about to say. “Would you like to go to the park to see the geese and ducks? We could ride.”
Nanny turned pale. “Oh, my lady!”
William turned a startled face up at her. “Truly?”
Judith chewed her lip again, then nodded. “I will talk to Mr. Robins—”
“Mummy!” He threw his arms around her legs.
Judith struggled to stay upright, then stroked his head as she mouthed at Nanny, “I know. Spoiled.”
Nanny merely shook her head. “Indeed, my lady.”
Judith chuckled, then peeled her son away. “All right. Let me see what I can work out. I cannot promise anything, but I will make the effort.”
He peered up at her, eyes gleaming and his bow-shaped mouth pursed, as he nodded furiously. “You will do it. I know it. You can do anything!”
Good Lord, this child is going to be trouble.
Judith did not care. She would do whatever she could for her boys. She had already seen what happened when she did not.
Chapter Eight
Tuesday, 19 July 1814
Embleton House
Half-past one in the afternoon
Mark despised laudanumfor far more reasons than a potential dependence on the drug. Laudanum brought sleep. And sleep brought nightmares. Dangerous dreams that caused Mark to struggle, aggravating his injuries. The doctor had wrapped his chest to immobilize his broken ribs, but Monday night had been an excruciating round-robin of thrashing dreams and pain, chills, and sweats that awoke him with new levels of agony. By ten Tuesday morning, as he encased Mark’s arm in a sling to rest the shoulder, Dr. Oakley had suggested either increasing the laudanum until Mark was truly unconscious or abandoning it entirely in favor of willow bark tea rotated with strong coffee, so that he could doze, but so lightly he would not dream.
Mark chose the latter, and his mother had ordered mounds of pillows brought to his bedchamber so that he could be propped up in a way that he could drink without choking and rest without hurting himself. She compared it to the nest she had made for herself as she recovered from her last lying-in, scowling as Mark reminded her that his pain emanated from a slightly different location.
