Part 12 (1/2)
Adrien pa.s.sed his hand over the satiny coat of the race-horse. The dainty creature p.r.i.c.ked up his finely-pointed ears, and turned to his master with a whinny of delight.
”He looks well enough,” he admitted. ”Has he had his gallop this morning?”
”Yes, sir; but would you like to see him across the paddock?”
”Yes,” said Adrien. ”By the way, who rides him to-morrow?”
”Peac.o.c.k, sir.”
”Ah, the new jockey.”
”Yes, sir; Mr. Vermont's lad,” returned the groom.
”A good seat?” asked Adrien.
”Capital, never saw a better, sir, and weighs next to nothing. I'll send for him.” He whistled, and half a dozen stable helpers rus.h.i.+ng forward, he despatched them to find the jockey. While waiting, the groom had the precious ”King” brought into the yard and saddled; and in a few moments the man arrived. Markham had called him a lad; but in reality he was almost middle-aged, with the stunted stature of a child. Adrien looked him over critically.
”So you ride the 'King' to-morrow?” he asked.
”Yes, sir,” replied the dwarf humbly.
”Let me see you take him round the paddock,” said Adrien. The man threw off his coat, showing himself to be in shabby riding costume; then, vaulting into the saddle, he took the racer to the meadow at the back of the stable-yard. Adrien watched the bird-like flight of the superb animal, and nodded approvingly when he presently returned to the starting-point.
”You'll do,” he said, as the jockey dismounted; ”ride like that to-morrow, and we shall win. There is something for you, but no drinking, mind.”
He held out a ten-pound note as he spoke. The man stared at it for a moment, then crouching almost like a dog, took it gingerly by the edge.
”Don't be afraid, man; one would think you expected a blow,” said Adrien, with a smile.
Touching his forelock, the man took the note, and Adrien turned away. As he walked out of the stable-yard he happened to glance back at Markham, who was re-covering the ”King,” and he saw that the jockey was still gazing after him, with a tense, almost longing expression in his small, deep-set eyes.
”Poor devil!” said Leroy to himself as he went up the drive, ”I must get Jasper to do something for him, especially if he wins--I only hope he doesn't get drunk!”
In the courtyard Lady Constance's horse and his own were waiting for him and in a few moments the girl herself appeared, accompanied by the ever-smiling Jasper Vermont.
Blessed by nature with a good figure, Art, as represented by French modistes and Redfern, had put the finis.h.i.+ng touches, with the result that Lady Constance Tremaine, whether in evening dress or the blue cloth riding-habit of the field, was a joy to the eye. As she stood now, waiting Adrien's approach, he could not help mentally contrasting her natural, spiritual type of beauty with the made-up and coa.r.s.ened charms of Ada Lester, and he wondered how he could have been so blind as not to notice it before.
He was not the only one who admired her. Jasper Vermont had elected himself as the girl's chief slave, and whenever he was at Barminster Castle invariably managed to carry out her lightest whims--indeed, would even endeavour to forestall them. Now it was he who attended to her saddle, and helped her into it before Adrien had fully realised what he was about to do; and for once Leroy experienced just the least feeling of resentment towards his devoted friend.
For a while the two rode almost in silence; but after the first canter Adrien reined up his horse close to that of his companion. Lady Constance purposely brought the conversation round to his estates, for, with all his dissipation and languor, Leroy was no indifferent landlord, and Lord Barminster invariably referred all complaints--such few as there were--to his son.
”I'm sorry you would not renew the lease for Farmer Darrell,” she said gently; ”he is almost heart-broken at having to leave Briar Farm.”
Adrien pulled up his horse sharply.
”Farmer Darrell to leave Briar Farm!” he said quickly. ”What do you mean, Constance?”
She looked at him steadily, as she replied:
”I rode over there yesterday, and found them all in great trouble. They told me Mr. Vermont, acting under your orders, had refused to grant them new leases. I promised to speak to Uncle Phillip; but you know how angry he gets whenever any one mentions Mr. Vermont's name, so I thought I would ask you myself.” She blushed crimson, as if at her own boldness.
”Of course, you mustn't do it just on my account, but--”