Jack Wetherley walked slowly, morosely, along the front of the new stables. Not since the death of his father six years earlier, had he ever felt so low. Passing the open-gated front of the twenty, as yet, unused stalls, he was asking himself whether his months of intimacy, with Becky, the niece of Sir Oswald Brandling, were about to tear them apart.
They had both been aware of the risks they were taking in prolonging their warm affair. But life had a way of biting just as everything looked rosy for him. And after two days since Becky had broken the news, he had given much thought to their situation, and could see no solution but to admit the truth. And this was the right day for his confession.
Lord Duckham was due to visit that very lunchtime. As chief racehorse trainer to the Prince Regent, it was he who had set up the whole idea of Brandling Estate becoming the Brandling stables with Jack in charge. And that was largely based on Jack’s success with Sir Oswald’s thoroughbred, Trafalgar.
His Lordship would be visiting for a final check that everything was ready for the movement of the first thoroughbreds from the royal stables, as well as extra staff, a clerk, and stable hands.
A sigh shuddered through Jack’s body at the thought that he would be losing all of this. As an ostler, he would find work somewhere, but he had begun to feel so at one with the people here, Sir Oswald, Alf and Nate, who had been given royal jockey status.
And then there was Becky, beautiful, passionate, and so loving. There was no doubt that she was going to be the biggest loss of all. He hadn’t seen her since her despairing revelation two days ago when they were nestled in one of their favourite haunts out on the Bascombe Hills.
Shocked and immediately worried as he was, when she had tearfully informed him of her pregnancy, Jack’s initial concern was the distress Becky must have been carrying for at least a week. Seven weeks overdue, she had wanted to be certain, but had contained her worry to avoid upsetting him, and he loved her for that.
He whispered that sentiment into her ear before adding, “We need to think it through. We’ve always known the risk we’ve been taking. Now it’s caught up with us, we need to give it careful thought.
She turned her face up to him, “You’re not mad at me, are you?” Had she ever looked so woeful?
“Mad at you? Who was it put that baby inside you? How could I ever be mad at the lady I love so much.”
Her brown eyes were so reddened, “I feared you might want me to get rid of—”
Jack put his hand over her mouth, “Don’t dare say that. Don’t dare to think it.”
Becky raised her head closer, “Kiss me, Jack.”
The kiss was warm, kindly and so gentle. Then her tongue was there, so was his, and as they touched, the heat began. Becky pulled at the loosely tied front of her dress.
“Touch me, Jack. Stroke me into the land of comfort and safety.”
Her breasts were smooth under his gentle palm, but the nipples quickly hardened. Trying to drive the implications of this new situation out of his mind, Jack began caressing her.
As ever, the smoothness of her skin drew him on, until his fingers were patrolling her dampening groove. So delectable yet making him so uncertain as he tentatively touched over her clit. Her fingers strayed over where his breeches hid his hardness, “Oh, Jack, I still want it. Still need it. Can we? Will you?”
Jack had no idea about how to do this with a pregnant lady. “Will it be safe?”
She kissed him, while tugging at his breeches, “I need you. Need your reassurance.”
So unlike the Becky who was always so brash. Yet, Jack guessed that, at that moment, she was not that Becky. Rolling to one side, he completely removed his breeches, and rolling them up, slid them under her buttocks. This raised her so that he could slide easily, juicily, into her wet passage while taking most of his weight on knees and elbows.
There was no wild thrusting between them, as he kissed her face and she whispered, “This is where you belong. Oh, yes, so loving, so gentle.”
They eased to-and-fro and it took a long, luscious, lingering loving before Becky’s breathing told him she was nearing her climax, and her hips jerked before she emitted a low growling cry, “Yes, Jack.”
Reluctant to press up too deeply, Jack was content just to maintain his gentle sliding inside her. Becky’s brown eyes frowned up at him, as she murmured, “You needn’t be too careful.” But at the same time, she flexed the muscles of her inner walls and within a few seconds he was pulsing, if not greedily, then readily inside her.
Their ride back had been fairly quiet, but outside the manor, she had dismounted and said quietly, “I couldn’t live without you, Jack. Think of something.”
Standing outside the new stables now, Jack felt as though his lack of a clear solution was letting her down. The previous day he and Alf had watched over the general clearing up by the workforce, ready for Lord Duckham’s inspection. Alf had returned from his ride with Sir Oswald who had told him that his niece had seemed unwell.
Now Jack turned as the sound of hooves on the newly laid terracing heralded the return of Alf leading Charger behind him. Alf said that the Major had wanted to end the ride a little earlier as he was expecting Lord Duckham at lunchtime, before he moved on to the mansion of the Duke of Westmoreland on the banks of Lake Windemere.
As they were brushing down the two horses, Alf asked, “Is there anything wrong between you and Becky?”
“That’s a funny question,” Jack said, feeling just a little guilty at avoiding telling Alf the facts. He hadn’t kept secrets before, although Alf had been wily enough to first detect his relationship with Becky. Not this time, though.
Alf shrugged, “It’s just that the Major asked if I knew if anything had upset her.”
“How upset was she?”
“He just said that last few days she’d been quiet and, what was it? Truck—trunk something”
“Truculent?”
“Aye, that’s it. What’s that mean?”
“Grumpy, like you,” Jack said, desperately wanting to lighten the mood.
“Very funny,” Alf snorted, but more seriously. “Oh, the Major wants you to dress smartly in your best for walking his Lordship around. So, when we’re done here, get away and into your fancies.”
Ever since his father died Jack had lived with his Aunt Rose, in her small cottage. She was surprised to see him home so early, and when she heard why he was getting changed, she laughed, “Mixing with Lords now, is it? Where’ll you be next?”
But pulling on his white shirt Jack felt as though he was dressing for his own execution. Without any clear idea or direction, he had decided that the sooner he spoke out, the quicker his situation would be resolved. But what about Becky? She was carrying his baby. God, he hated himself for being so hopelessly helpless.
Arriving back at the stables, he found Alf, sitting on a barrel at the stable door. Surprisingly, sitting alongside him was Nate, neatly dressed in fawn breeches and a dark green jacket.. The sun was high overhead, and it should have been a perfect day, but Jack feared it was heading to be quite the opposite.
“You’re dressed up well, Jack,” Nate said.
Alf grinned, and shook his head, “Call that dressing? You look like a bloody scarecrow.”
Jack grimaced. This should be a perfect situation, sitting out in the sun, sharing friendly banter. He was feeling instead that this could be the last time. Trying to remain level- headed, he expressed his surprise that Nate was there.
Nate shrugged, “I never had a chance to thank Lord Duckham for giving me this royal jockey post. I heard he’ll be here today.”
“Any time now, “ Alf said. “They’ve been in for lunch for over an hour.”
Nate nodded, and turned to Jack again, “Has he told you anything?”
Puzzled, Jack could only shake his head, ”About what?”
Nate frowned, looking slightly embarrassed, “You know, after that slimy assistant of Lord Duckham’s that you were—”
At that moment there was a loud, deep, “Good afternoon!” from their right, and Lord Duckham, silver hair blowing in the warm breeze, hand raised in greeting, appeared around the edge of the stable, flanked by a smiling Sir Oswald.
As the three men stood, Jack could not take his eyes off Becky who was just one step behind Sir Oswald, gorgeous as ever in a deep green gown. But this wasn’t the usual Becky. Her eyes looked dull and although she managed a weak smile in Jack’s direction, she could only grant a nod to Alf and Nate. Alf’s glance at Jack was full of questions.
As Sir Oswald and Lord Duckham reached them, his Lordship shook each man warmly and generously by the hand. “A wonderful day for this,” he declared. Nate immediately took the opportunity to thank him for the royal appointment.
“Not at all,” his Lordship said, “It is well deserved, and a repeat of what you have achieved already will be pleasing for everyone.”
Jack was wincing inside at the thought that he would not be here to see that happen.
Sir Oswald turned back to his niece, “Why don’t you go and give Trafalgar a rub? Might cheer you up.” As Becky. eyes down, moved towards the fence where the chestnut waited, Sir Oswald said, “My niece has been rather low for the last few days.” Jack wasn’t sure whether the quick glance in his direction had any significance, as he went on, “I hope she isn’t coming down with something.”
Alf and Nate remained to enjoy the sunshine, while Jack led the Sir Oswald and Lord Duckham towards the new stable, and Sir Oswald pointed out the double doored bay before the stalls began. Becky had stayed with Trafalgar and Nelson’s Pride was also seeking her attention. Jack wanted to do exactly that, longing to hear from her, but Sir Oswald was inviting him to explain the purpose of the double bay,
Jack took a deep shaky breath and told his Lordship, “Hay store. A waggon can be drawn between the two stables and deposit straw directly into that bay. It holds maybe three day’s supply when all twenty stalls are occupied.”
“Excellent,” his Lordship said, and as they walked along in front of the twenty stalls his enthusiasm increased. Halfway along, Becky caught up with them, her face was expressionless to everyone but Jack, who saw only sadness. His heart sank as he knew he was going to be the one who would deepen that.
They moved down the far side of the new stables to where the new accommodation for stable staff was shielded in a grove of trees. Jack had not seen much of this development, so he let Sir Oswald talk about it to a very impressed Lord Duckham. Six separate living quarters, a small living area with even smaller bedroom and kitchen areas.
The final part Lord Duckham needed to see was the training track area. As they made their way down there, Becky was able get close to Jack. Oh, hell, don’t ask me, he was thinking. Even more uneasy now as confession time could not be far away.
Down on the side of the lake, the whole craft and labour force waited to hear Lord Duckham’s opinion of their efforts. First his Lordship stamped his feet into the new ash surface surrounding the lake, clearly satisfied with that test he said, “First class.”
Then the workforce was called together, and in his deepest lordly tones, Lord Duckham told them how impressed he had been with all aspects of their work
While he spoke, Becky took the opportunity to sidle alongside Jack and whisper, “Any ideas?”
Jack looked down into those wonderful brown eyes, cursing that he had nothing to give her but bad news. “I’m going to have to confess.” And, as he saw her face look as though it would crumble, he added, “But you are, and always will be, my dearest lady.”
She squeezed his arm briefly as her eyes moistened. Then their attention was drawn by a loud cheer from the gathered throng as Lord Duckham informed them that the bonus they had been promised, would be doubled.
As the crowd dispelled, Lord Duckham, came back to them, and with a deep chuckle he said, “I’m so generous with the Prince Regent’s money.” He plucked a large watch from his waistcoat pocket, glanced at it and pronounced, “A quarter to two. Barely time to complete the final duty on this occasion.”
Curious glances passed between Jack and Becky. Inspecting the finished work and thanking the builders had been the main intentions of his Lordship’s visit. As they reached the steps to the main door of the mansion, Jack was wondering when the right time would be to make his confession. How would he do it? Could he just blurt out, “I, a commoner, have impregnated your niece.”? Oh, God, what kind of shock would that be?
Sir Oswald broke into his worries, by turning to Lord Duckham, while waving his hand at Jack and Becky, mounting the steps, and saying, “I think we should have a celebratory toast.”
Jack’s mind was in such a mixed whirl of worry and lost opportunity he was wondering how appropriate it would be to celebrate his own confession. As they entered the only main room he had ever been in, a man servant, indicated the four glasses already filled with champagne on Sir Oswald’s large desk.
“Thank you, Sanders, “ Sir Oswald said, as the man servant left.
Jack caught Becky’s puzzled frown, as she added a slight baffled shrug to that. He knew for certain that he could not say what he must say in her presence. But then Si Oswald was speaking, “Before we raise our glasses, I believe, Lord Duckham, you have a delivery to make.”
“Thank you, Oswald,” Lord Duckham said, “I do need to get away promptly. Must be in Windemere before dark.”
Jack had noticed coach and horses standing to one side of the main entrance, and now was a little surprised as his Lordship, turned to face him, reached into an inside pocket of his three quarter jacket and produced a long envelope, which he handed to Jack. “You need to read this. As you’ll see, it is not from me.”
Dazed, Jack glanced at the envelope and saw it addressed to Mr Jack Wetherley, Brandling Estate, and at the top was a royal crest. “Come on, man. Open it,” Lord Duckham urged. “My coach is waiting.”
The envelope wasn’t sealed, and with trembling fingers, Jack extracted the scented sheet inside it. Opening it, he began to read it silently, ‘To Mr Jack Wetherley. You are expected to attend St James’ Palace—‘ Jack’s legs began to shake.
“Out loud,” Sir Oswald demanded. “I think we all deserve to share this with you.”
Nervously, Jack glanced around him. Lord Duckham was looking at his watch again,
Sir Oswald was wearing a slight smile, and, at last there was a look of vague excitement on his darling Becky’s face.
He began to read out loud,
“You are expected to attend St James Palace at 2.30 pm on the 31st Inst for your investiture as knight of the realm by his Royal Highness , the Prince Regent, George. This is in recognition of your role as deputy chief racehorse trainer to his Highness.”
There was a scribble of a signature and Royal Secretary at the end.
Sir Oswald came forward and shook his hand warmly, “I am delighted for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jack responded, at that moment confused, totally.
Sir Oswald went on, “You will be, Sir Jack Wetherley. And will stop calling me, ‘sir’” He turned to where Becky had been standing, with her mouth slightly open and tears on her cheeks, “ Rebecca, even having a new knight in our midst does not improve your mood?”
Becky came in close to Jack, and the tears on her cheeks had told him that she too had realised that this was only a temporary aberration. All their earlier fears and regrets remained. They were still going to face up to the outcome of Jack’s confession. In the future he might be able to boast that he had been contender for knighthood for a few hours.
Becky came to stand in front of him, “I’m so proud of you, Jack.” She squeezed his hand and kissed him with incredible politeness on the cheek. Sir Oswald handed out the brimming glasses, raised his own, and said, “Here’s to the good health and success of Sir Jack Wetherley.”
Lord Duckham added, “And to the success and development of Brandling stables.” He put down his glass and gave Jack a tight handshake, “Congratulations, Jack. I know you’ll be an asset to our team.”
Jack was feeling so guilty at allowing this sham celebration to continue. The whole thing was going to explode in their faces, the situation being no better than before, if not worse. All still remained to be revealed, but now he had further to fall. From knighthood to—what?
There was no way out. It had always been inevitable, but this day had magnified the shame a hundred-fold. Not three yards away, his darling Becky was dabbing at her eyes with a lacey handkerchief. He hated the fact that she was suffering too.
Lord Duckham came over to say his farewells and make the offer, “When your party come down for the investiture you must all stay at my mansion in Ascot.”
Sir Oscar thanked him and said, “I’ll see you to the door.” On the way out he stopped, turned back to say, “I’d like you two to be here when I return.”
The moment the door closed Becky was clinging to him. “You would be a ‘Sir’. My father would have allowed me to marry you.” Those eyes that should have been full of joy, now reflected his own despondency and concern.
He squeezed her close, trying to think of some way of saying what his mind was wrestling with. Then he heard a coach pulling away, and the main door closed.
As the room door began to open, they jumped apart. Sir Oswald came in looked from one to the other and there was a rather twisted smile on his face. He gestured to the two chairs on the near side of his desk, “Just sit there, please.”
Jack was wondering whether it would be best to blurt out his confession before this went too far. But he took his seat with Becky just near his right hand. He expected Sir Oswald to go around to his high-backed chair, but instead, he perched himself on the edge of his desk where he was near to them.
His dark eyes moved from one to the other, before settling on Becky, as he said, “Rebecca, you don’t think I’m in my dotage, do you?”
Oh, oh, what was coming?
Shaken by the unexpected question, Becky, her eyes wide and enquiring replied, “No uncle. I think you are very wise.”
“Yes, I am.” A grim smile on his florid face he turned to Jack, “And you Jack, do you believe I am losing my senses?”
Jack was as stunned as Becky had been, but he replied, “Of course not, sir.”
“Good, then just listen.”
Tell him, Jack was advising himself. “Sir Oswald, I think—”
Sir Oswald held up a hand, “No interruptions please.”
He paused, as though gathering his thoughts, “First, I have a confession to make.”
Jack and Becky’s eyes met and shared mutual surprise across the space between them. Jack was thinking they were the ones with the confessions.
“There is one thing I am ashamed of in my life.” He looked at their dubious faces and his head nodded, “Rebecca, it may surprise you to know that your attitude to privilege was not far from my own.”
“But, uncle—”
Sir Oswald held up a hand of restraint, “Let me finish. In the service, I had many men at my command. Men who had been farm hands, ditch diggers, labourers. They obeyed my orders because that is necessary for discipline at war. But many of those men were braver than I was, were trustworthy, honest and often smiling despite adversity. So much so that I admired them greatly.”
He stopped, drew in a deep shuddering breath, as though dreading what he had to say, but he continued, his eyes moving frequently between Jack and Becky, “Those men, once out of the service suddenly became, commoners. Bowed and scraped in deference to the upper crust. Had to be wary of how they spoke to a fine lady, like yourself, Rebecca.
I left the service, took up the wine trade, met rich merchants and my shame is that despite how I’d esteemed the men in my regiment, I joined in with the convention of being the privileged class.”
Jack had already felt an easing of the tension that had built inside him, he glanced at Becky, and saw her brow wrinkled as she looked back at him.
“Rebecca,” Sir Oswald went on, standing up to stretch, pull at his jacket, before settling on the desk once more, “when you came into our lives we’d heard from your father, my dear lamented brother, and from the nuns where he’d placed you, that you were wild and undisciplined. But we found in that first two weeks that they were wrong.”
He stopped and gave Becky a wide radiant smile before adding, “You were much worse than that. You were obstructive, head-strong, disobedient, careless, rather rude, greedy.”
Jack was beginning to see where this might be leading.
Sir Oswald continued, “Then magically, there came a change, Gradual. More smiles. More helpful. More amenable.”
His attention turned to Jack ““Being in the army taught me so much. I’ve known many ladies. Don’t tell your aunt, Becky.“ He half smiled, “After many harsh lessons, I know that a lady does not alter by accident. No, and there are two main reasons. One is money. The other is a man.”
Sir Oswald now faced Jack directly, “This, was where my senses came into action. First I noticed my niece never venture far on her lone rides out. Then, I noted her frequently coming away from the stables.” He tapped over his eyes, “All my senses working, Jack.” His eyes switched to Becky, “And no dotage to prevent me putting things together.”
Oh, God, Jack was thinking, he knows. What now?
“Yes, those stables were such an attraction. And this was even before Trafalgar. But his arrival gave you an ideal excuse.”
“But I loved Trafalgar,” Becky burst in.
“Oh, I had no doubt about that. But at the same time I was observing all the glances between you and Jack, all the touching at race meetings.”
Jack was feeling so far out of this conversation and was still not convinced that he was out of the woods yet. What did Sir Oswald intend?
Now, Becky asked. “So, if you were so sure why didn’t you stop us. A commoner and a lady.”
Sir Oswald laughed, “Well, for one thing for the calmness Jack produced in you.”
Only slightly relieved, Jack couldn’t help thinking of the very uncalm, very wild lady who frequently squirmed in his arms.
Her uncle went on, “I’ve told you how I feel about class convention. But I was tied to your dear father’s wishes, that you did not marry beneath your so-called status. His ideas were so different to my own. Hell, he might have had Jack shot.”
“Don’t say that,“ Becky protested. “So, you don’t mind that we’ve been together. “
“Mind? Haven’t you noticed my encouragement lately? At Newmarket, who was it asked Jack to go find you? And you came back with a hell of a creased dress. Who was quick to agree with Alf’s suggestion that Jack accompany you on your rides while the labourers were on site?”
Sir Oswald, turned his eyes on Jack, “Would you say that you love her.”
Pleased to get a word in on what had become almost a private conversation, Jack told him, “I have no doubt about it.”
Becky’s uncle turned back to her, “My encouragement was helped by knowing since the Doncaster meeting last year, that there was the possibility that he’d be knighted.”
They both gasped, but it was Becky who almost cried out, “You‘ve known all this time?”
“It all depended on Trafalgar’s performance.”
Jack couldn’t hide his rising delight, “So, Trafalgar won us more than just a big race.”
The distinguished old head nodded as he looked from Jack to Becky, “So now you can meet your father’s wishes and marry at your own level, a knight of the realm.”
“You’ll agree?” Becky’s face was alight.
But Jack was suppressing his pleasure at the turn-around of events. There was still one stumbling block.
Sir Oswald said, “There are no problems. For a start, I’ll have the top floor arranged so it is where you can live until you have somewhere built. A late August wedding then. You want it large—”
“I’m pregnant, uncle.”
Oh, hell, she’d dropped that bomb so quickly. Sir Oswald’s face lost that cheery aspect, as he heaved himself off the desk and, without speaking, strode across to the large window, where he stood with his arms folded staring out into the bright sunlit garden.
Jack looked across at Becky who shrugged as though she was saying “I couldn’t help it.” Her sorrowful look was too much for Jack and he reached out grab her hand.
But without too much delay, Sir Oswald turned back from the window. And reached for one of a line of bell pulls on the nearest wall. He gave it a tug, as he said, “All right, Slight change of plan. Smaller wedding, and quicker. Chance of a—”
At that moment, there was a polite knock on the door, and Sanders came in, “Yes, sir?”
“Ah, Sanders, would you hurry across to the stable and tell Alf to have a curricle ready at the front door in the next fifteen minutes.”
As Saunders went out, Jack and Becky stood, and stared at Sir Oswald, who looked at their puzzled faces, and laughed, “I said quick, and that means starting now. Rebecca, my dear,” And he strode to his niece and gave her a hug. Jack just stood feeling like a great weight had lifted from inside him.
Sir Oswald glanced at Jack, “Jack here, Rebecca, doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to drive you into town to buy you the first of the rings that will mark this union.”
Jack could hardly breath as Sir Oswald moved towards him and held out a hand, which he took gratefully, “Sir Oswald, I don’t know what to say. I—”
“Then say nothing, Jack. Just keep my niece happy.” A rather suggestive smirk crossed his face as he added, “As you have obviously been doing. You want to pay for this simple ring yourself?”
Events had moved so fast, Jack hadn’t had time to think, “But, I think that would be good.”
Sir Oswald smiled, “Well, if she gets greedy, mention my account to the jeweller.” He turned to Becky, “A simple ring for starters. Right?”
Becky returned his smile before moving to stand close to Jack, taking his hand, “We can do this in the open now.”
“You think you haven’t been wide open in my eyes?”
Just then the sound of coach wheels was heard and when they went out of the front door, Alf was standing there, holding the bridle of the harnessed horse. Alf wore a smile as wide as the lake as he went into an exaggerated bow, “Your carriage awaits Sir Jack.” And he stressed the ‘sir’. Jack went to him and wrapped his arms around this very dear friend.
“You knew?”
“Only since this morning. Oh, Jack, I’m so glad for you–” He turned to Becky, “—and m’lady.”
“Becky,” she corrected him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
When they were both seated in the curricle, Alf called, “Drive carefully.”
They laughed and Jack gave a shake to the reins to set the horse in motion. Heading down the drive, Becky clutched his arm and murmured, “Oh, Jack.”
Jack was thinking of the contrast between the depression he had been in for the past two days, and how he was feeling at this wonderful moment. He knew it would take him sometime to become used to this new sense of euphoria but in the meantime he could only let it absorb him.
Out onto the narrow track, he stopped he halted the horse, turned to Becky and took her into his arms. She came to him willingly and the kissed long and longingly for the first unhurried time. After sitting back and absorbing the face of the beautiful lady in his arms, he set the horse into motion.
And Jack, with his lady, Becky, at his side, drove off to town and into their golden future.
