Page 52

‘How to hide your hair, Miss Gray?’ Polly asked as she brushed out the fine waves.

‘Perhaps plait it and then I can pile it under Mr Shilton’s old Eton hat I’ve brought with me.’ She picked up the hat and also her cloak, even though it was going to be a warm day.

When she arrived in the dining room for breakfast, the men who were racing had already departed for the Downs. Only Alick Wolfe remained, relaxed, his legs crossed, reading yesterday’s newspaper. He put down The Times when Eliza entered and poured her a cup of coffee. ‘Good morning, Miss Gray. As you see, we’re the last to leave for the races.’ He smiled. ‘Is Polly ready to join us? It’s a festive place on race day and we should set off soon.’

They climbed into the spare Shilton chaise with a team of four glossy bays, with one of their host’s grooms driving. Alick Wolfe sat with his back to the horses and seemed as relaxed as a cat in the sun. ‘There’ll be so many deep wagers today. I cannot bet on anyone other than Rav winning, he’d never forgive me otherwise.’ He laughed and with his gaze turned on the lush green hills that marked the approach to the racecourse, he did not see Eliza wince. There was so much greater significance attached to this one race than she had ever considered possible. How naive and foolish she had been! She reproached herself for impulsiveness and misplaced loyalties; into what trouble had they led her? She sat on the edge of her seat, unable to relax.

The chaise turned a corner and there before them was laid out a panoramic scene of the Epsom Downs seething with the most motley crowd of people Eliza had ever seen. Every type of person, from the tinkers shouting out their wares to the working men and women for whom this was a yearly festival, to the grandest noblemen with their open barouches filled with guests quaffing champagne, their grooms handling their horses and house staff serving grand picnics on the greensward. Young men had drawn up their carriages and some sat on the roof for a better view of the course. The Shilton groom parked the chaise alongside another of the Shilton carriages and Alick Wolfe, Eliza and Polly climbed out.

Proud racing steeds were led around the paddock by their grooms with gamblers eyeing them, weighing up the odds. There were pennant flags flying from wooden sheds where the horses were saddled and jockeys could help themselves to jugs of ale. Everywhere was gaiety and laughter as people milled about the Downs, intent on pleasure. Men and women were dressed in their festive finery; Mr Shilton’s sunshine-yellow coat would be entirely unremarkable and Lord Purfoy’s habitual immaculately tailored coat and trousers in black superfine would stand out as incongruously urban and austere. The air was filled with the aroma of food being cooked on braziers in small tents, boiling cockles and fried onions and roasting almonds and sweet chestnuts.

Alick Wolfe led the way towards a knot of his friends, huddled discussing what money they would bet on each rider. Eliza took Polly’s hand. ‘Mr Wolfe, I wish to find Mr Flynn. Don’t be concerned, Polly will chaperone me. I’ll seek you out later.’ She didn’t wait for any demur and walked speedily towards the sheds where the horses were being prepared for the important next event, the Owners’ Race. The first shed was filled with restless horses and their owners with their grooms. Eliza was alarmed at the prospect of bumping into Lord Purfoy and Horatio and was relieved that he was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Mr Flynn, but the moment she walked into the second shed, he was unmistakeable by his bulk.

He met Eliza’s eyes with a smile of relief. ‘Miss Gray, come with me.’ He led the way into a small room at the back. ‘Your clothes are here. We’ve got half an hour to make it to the starting post.’ Eliza quickly whisked off her gown and chemise while Polly guarded the door. Although Mr Shilton’s schoolboy breeches and jacket were a little too large, his boots fitted well and were beautifully made and comfortable. Eliza coiled her thick plait into the crown of Ferdy’s curly-brimmed hat and then crammed it on her head. She emerged to face Polly’s scrutiny. ‘How do I look?’

Polly could not hide her astonishment. ‘You look very… fine, miss.’

‘No, I mean do I look like a jockey? Will I pass as a man?’

‘Well, Miss Gray, I suppose you might, but a rather pretty young man.’ She looked unconvinced.

‘Well, it’s as good as I can make it, so we’d better go and find Mr Flynn.’

Together they left the shed and found Zadoc Flynn standing with Ohio’s reins in his hands. His wide-eyed glance seemed to suggest he agreed with Polly, that she was not entirely plausible as a male jockey. However, she leapt into the saddle without his help and he began to shorten her stirrups. ‘You’re athletic enough to ride like our best American jockeys, with your weight out of the saddle.’

‘Is this cheating, Mr Flynn?’

As he finished buckling the leather straps, he looked up at her. ‘Of course not, Miss Gray. If English riders are fool enough to ride heavy in the saddle like squatting on a stone, that’s their choice.’ This response did nothing to quell Eliza’s anxieties. But when she began to walk Ohio down to the starting post, she felt the horse’s spirit and excitement flutter under her. Mr Flynn walked beside his horse, a hand on her neck. She was a small, graceful mare, her dun coat polished and gleaming.

Eliza leaned down to whisper to Mr Flynn, ‘I do not wish to be seen by Lord Purfoy.’

‘Don’t worry yourself with him. He’s probably already at the start. The race will begin before he bothers to look at the horses and riders bunched in behind him.’ The afternoon was sunny and unseasonably warm, the air growing heavy and thundery. Eliza noticed Lord Davenport’s beautiful grey, always a horse to stand out from the crowd. She knew this was Horatio’s main rival and she hoped beyond hope that Lord Purfoy would beat him easily, then she and Ohio could melt away in the crowd. Catching sight of Mr Shilton’s yellow coat ahead settled her nerves. She would tuck in behind him and then just make sure she could race Ohio into third or fourth place at the finish line, and fulfil her promise to Mr Flynn.

Then Eliza saw him, the only person she longed to see. She felt her soul caught in a gust of passion so unexpected it made her shudder. The power of this new emotion shocked her, but she knew she had to be calm. Strategy was needed in this race, especially as she had never ridden in one before. Horatio was the biggest horse there and Raven Purfoy sat tall in the saddle. They were both dark and striking and once Eliza had seen him, she could not take her eyes off him. How much she loved this man, but what a delicate path she was about to tread. He had no idea there was a traitor in his midst. And she shuddered again, but this time with real foreboding.

Zadoc Flynn patted Ohio and looked up into Eliza’s face. ‘You know it’s a mile. Don’t let her have her head until the last furlong. She’s the fastest little filly I’ve ever seen. But hold back that speed ’til the last sprint.’ He was about to leave her with the other milling horses and riders but turned back, a soft light in his eyes, and said, ‘Take care, Miss Gray, it’s a dangerous sport and your life’s far more important than glory.’ He grasped her hand and kissed it. ‘I’ll see you at the finish.’ And he walked briskly away.

The race entrants were called to the starting line. Eliza’s mouth was dry. She looked for Mr Shilton’s yellow coat and headed towards his end of the field, well away from the Lords Purfoy and Davenport. The race starter climbed up the ladder to his little wooden platform and raised his arm holding a red flag. Waiting for everyone to bunch up in an approximate line, he let his arm fall and they were off.

Eliza could feel Ohio’s excitement. The mare seemed to have energy pulsing from every cell and Eliza had a struggle to hold her back, but she did try the new riding style of American jockeys and lifted her rear out of the saddle, shifting her weight forward. Ohio sprung down the course in pursuit of the herd ahead. Eliza watched Horatio and Eros take off like primed rockets, so quick they left the rest of the field far in their wake. Clods of damp earth and grass were gouged out of the course by the galloping hooves ahead and flicked into the faces of the pursuing riders and their mounts. Eliza was concerned. Would those two leading horses keep up their blistering pace or tire? She prayed that Lord Purfoy and Horatio could maintain this commanding lead while she husbanded Ohio’s speed and remained in the middle of the field.

Riding out of the saddle was an unaccustomed stance for her and put a strain on her thighs and knees, so she sat down for a furlong or two but could feel Ohio’s strength and frustration at being held back. The crowd’s roar was deafening and where it confused Eliza, it excited her mount. Ohio just wanted to be given her head and run free. To Eliza’s consternation, Horatio and Eros, although still well ahead, were themselves tiring; Lord Purfoy’s and Lord Davenport’s contempt for each other was such that they had both thrown caution to the wind, each intent on leaving the other in the dust, and now their mounts were tiring. It was passion, not strategy, that had dictated their race and their lead was eroding fast.

Just as the final furlong post loomed, Eliza raised herself out of the saddle and let the reins drop in her hands. The crowd and the mass of gamblers who had wagered on this unknown outsider roared with excitement. Ohio was propelled like a bullet just fired from a gun. She stretched out her legs and threw back her head, then with her neck and ears flexed forward, she galloped in pursuit of the front runners, as if her life depended on it.

Eliza felt the pure thrill of speed, being in partnership with a magnificent animal whose fluidity, strength and grace was as one with her rider. She noticed with some alarm that they had easily passed Mr Shilton on Avatar. Too late she wondered if she should attempt to rein in Ohio, but was aware that so much money was wagered on this race that she would be heavily censured if deemed to do anything to alter the outcome.

The dark figures of Horatio and Lord Purfoy were still ahead of her but the gap was narrowing and she felt a terrible sense of imminent doom. It was too late; she could do nothing now to change her fate. Suddenly, as the flags marking the finish were in view, Ohio surged ahead and crossed the line first. The sky was rapidly darkening and as Eliza wheeled Ohio off in a large loop, she could not bear to look at Lord Purfoy. Zadoc Flynn was there in an instant, as he said he would be, and put his hand out for Ohio’s reins to lead them off into the crowd.

‘Wait a moment, sir!’ Lord Purfoy’s voice rang out.

Eliza turned and met his scowl, more thunderous than the sky in a face pale with shock. She dismounted and waved for Zadoc Flynn to take Ohio back to the stable and rub her down. Lord Purfoy had also dismounted and Eliza noticed Taz riding up from the starting line, and even his face was grim.

The crowds and horses were thick around them when Raven Purfoy took her arm and steered her to the shade of a nearby tree. Eliza’s heart was beating inordinately fast, all her senses heightened. She noticed the raindrop that had fallen on Lord Purfoy’s shoulder, the smell of the damp air, the intense stormy light that seemed to gild everything with a greenish glow. There was a sudden gust and Taz looked up at the sky and sucked his teeth. ‘A storm is runnin’ on the wind,’ he said to no one in particular.

Eliza was aware of the pressure of Lord Purfoy’s fingers on her elbow, how close he was to her, and she met his eyes at last. He said in a quiet voice full of suppressed rage, ‘Is this the way you show your contempt for me, Miss Gray? Disguise yourself, keep it a secret, then humiliate me?’

‘No! I’d agreed to ride Ohio for Mr Flynn before you…’ Her voice tailed off; she was about to say before you told me you loved me, but had he really declared his love? It was so complicated and upsetting that she hastened to add further explanation. ‘I only ever meant to ride for fourth – at the most, third place. And I never intended for you to recognise me!’ Her voice rose with emotion.