Chapter 191

It had been easy enough to get the morning off work since Mr Darcy had chosen to credit Hugo with the phaeton's success and was eager to reward him for his efforts. And thus, with enough money to buy a pony at the livestock market and a vague wish to find Ben a pair of spectacles or at least his own magnifying glass to use at home, Hugo rode Liquor through lanes and across fields to the main road. Then he rode about ten miles to the nearest town, which was large enough to offer a variety of craftsmen and a market that drew livestock sellers from all over the county.

Hugo had been there before, though not to visit the market, imagine Mr Darcy buying a horse from a farmer after some lively bartering. During his time in England in Mr Darcy's service, Hugo had only bought from reputable horse merchants, whom one could trust on their word that the horses' pedigrees were honest and the animals themselves were sound. Though checking the professed age of the horse and giving it a very thorough inspection before buying was always wise, even a well-reputed tradesman could have been be mislead when taking a horse in stock.

First thing was to stable Liquor safely for a few hours, and Hugo knew exactly where to do that, since he had been staying at a certain inn reasonably often when he had a little holiday and was in need of some diversion. Livestock markets attracted thieves, and it wouldn't do to have a borrowed horse stolen even though Liquor's fierceness would likely make most miscreants regret their theft almost immediately.

Horse stabled, Hugo first took a little stroll over the market, to spy out any possible bargains before someone else might take a fancy to them. Since he trusted himself to spy out any doctoring or unsoundness in a horse that seemed too cheap, he could trust himself to make a good buy before the market got really busy, if such a bargain was indeed available. And if he saw an interesting horse that was too dear, he could always wait until later in the day to see if he could get the price down a bit.

Most sellers were still setting up, though everyone had arrived except maybe a few late comers. Hugo discovered it was quite useful to quietly observe the horses as their current owners were still busy, it gave him a chance to see how they reacted to bustle and whether they trusted their handlers or expected abuse from them.

Almost immediately, he found himself dismissing the first few horses because of their mere appearance, and he really had to remind himself perfect proportions, pedigrees and pretty colouring did not matter today, it was practicality that was needed. He checked those horses again with a different eye and found them much too large for his purpose, these were probably cast-offs from some local rich man's stables, too old or too blemished to make a good show but sound enough to make a few quid more than at the knackers. Horse meat wasn't valued in England, something Hugo could ill understand: it was good meat and meat was expensive, why sell it below its worth?

'You look as if you know your horses, good sir, why don't you check them out? They're good, strong horses, always had the best feed, never been overworked, they belonged to an old gentleman who didn't go out that much. Until he passed away and his heir didn't want them. Young people these days, nothing's good enough for them.'

Well, frankly, now Hugo was close enough to make out some detail, he suspected three were old enough to make them quite unreliable to last more than a year or two and one was fidgety. All were fat, this man couldn't have had them in his possession very long, no merchant could afford to overfeed his stock. Whereas the man seemed to think it an advantage that these horses had probably not worked hard for months or even years, to Hugo it was a distinct disadvantage, he wanted Caitlin to be able to use the gig straight away, not after weeks of training.

To make the merchant happy he checked out the teeth of the elderly three and he was proven right. The fidgety horse he checked a little more carefully, it might merely be disturbed by its unfamiliar situation. But when he offered it his hand to sniff the horse shied away, and he needed several tries to get it to open its mouth. This one was younger but skittish, Hugo guessed that if he didn't find anything else he might try him but he hoped it would not be necessary, it was really too large for their purposes and besides, a new driver like Caitlin could not handle a temperamental horse, especially not in the dark. He thanked the man and moved on.

Next were a lot of small, stocky ponies of all kinds, sold by individual farmers and farmers' sons as diverse as the ponies themselves. They had only one thing in common, men and ponies: none had an ounce of fat to spare. But, though there were several animals looking in excellent shape, better than their owner in some cases, none were of a size useful to Hugo.

Whereas all horses so far had been tied by their halter ropes to the cast-iron railings of the market square, the next lot had theirs grouped in a fenced-off area between those iron bars, and Hugo's eye was instantly drawn to these ponies. They were in excellent health and of the right size, mostly skewbalds and piebalds with thick manes, well-muscled buttocks and sturdy legs and hoofs covered in long, shaggy socks.

It was hard for Hugo to ignore his finely honed sense of aesthetics and seriously consider the advantages of these animals for his own use, they were obviously strong and healthy and they would be incredibly sober in upkeep. But just look at them, they were hideous!

'Move along now, sir, these aren't good enough for you with your fancy black horse. These are honest, hard-working horses and they don't like it when you look down your nose at them.'

That was not the usual way to sell a horse, and the man's accent was so much like Caitlin's he had to be Irish. Despite his confronting language he didn't seem particularly agitated, and the soldier in Hugo could appreciate the man's astuteness, apparently he had seen Hugo arrive on Fowler's Liquor. There were more men with him and they all looked different from the usual local farmer, and they certainly weren't horse traders or townspeople. Maybe they were travelling merchants, selling these curious horses all over the countryside. Those ponies would be very useful to a smallholder since they could probably even do some serious farm work.

For some reason, Hugo wanted Caitlin's countrymen to like him, and instead of just moving on or snubbing the rude fellow, he explained himself.

'I'm very sorry to have offended your horses, good sir, I can see they are very well-cared for and very strong. I hope they can forgive me. I work in a gentleman's stables and I'm afraid my eye has been spoiled by being surrounded by blood horses. The black isn't mine, I'm looking for a more practical animal for myself. Your horses are strong, but I suppose they aren't fast? My wife is a healer and she needs to take our gig out at night sometimes to an emergency, when time is of the essence.'

'You talk like a gentleman but you're not from this island either, are you?'

There was still no reason to take offence, Hugo had learned to keep his cool under any circumstance. It had kept him alive in the war, and horses liked it. That didn't mean he had to stay scrupulously polite himself in the face of so much brusqueness.

'I'm French. Are you Irish? You sound like my wife and she came from Ireland ten years ago.'

'You married an Irish woman? Then you're as good as kin! And I must admit, you can take some chaff. Probably had worse, being a Frenchman in England. Now you obviously know your horses for these are heavy for a pony and they are strong rather than fast. But we have one gelding you will hate but your wifey will love. Before I show him to you, tell me, why would you buy a horse you hate to look at? Why not have a beautiful horse yourself? There are plenty to choose from here.'

He made a gesture encompassing the whole market.

'I haven't seen all of them but so far they were too old, too fat or too skittish. I love my wife and I want her to be safe. There may be a smart and beautiful horse to be had, but I'm trying to find an animal for my family, not for my employer, and I need to learn the different kinds available to suit my purpose.'

'All right, you'll do for Spot, I'll have John bring him out for you to look at.'

He called out to one of his mates, who got up slowly and picked up a rope from a whole bunch lying on the cobbles near their make-shift paddock, then entered it by stepping over the rope strung between two iron rails to keep the horses in.

Hugo watched the lanky young fellow disappear behind two horses to find a horse with the original name of Spot, too bad since he would have liked to see how the young man interacted with his horse. The two piebalds blocking the view now turned towards the man called John, revealing the man petting them briefly before making his way towards the exit of their make-shift paddock. The man Hugo had been talking to opened the rope to let man and horse through then closed it behind them.

Now Hugo could see Spot and he really was ridiculously ugly. He was a dark chestnut skewbald with a white face and dark rings around his eyes, as if he'd slept really badly for weeks. His absurdly long legs were mostly white, and his rump seemed too short for the height of those legs. When the horse turned his head to look at a noise from the street, Hugo could see he had a veritable ram's nose, but he also saw the horse's mild reaction to the disturbance and the intelligence in those eyes.

'This is Spot and he is pleased to meet you. That is always the first test,' the man told him. John was still waiting, probably to do the running to show Hugo the horse's gaits.

As most horses, Spot indeed seemed to like Hugo. He politely sniffed the hand Hugo offered him for that purpose, then examined the practical but well-made coat of the man before him. It felt impolite to just check his teeth as Hugo would with other horses, so he merely scratched some common itchy places, which was very much appreciated.

'You may check him now, Mr ...,' the Irishman hinted.

'Hugo,' Hugo replied, secretly diverted that the horse seemed to be in charge here.

'I'm James,' the man offered his hand, 'pleased to meet you. At least you're a true horseman though you cannot see Spot's qualities just yet.'

Clearly he thought Hugo was his first name but Hugo didn't feel the need to correct this, a lot of people made that mistake.

Spot didn't seem to mind Hugo checking his age, which was about nine years, and all the rest of him. He was lanky and a bit taller than Hugo had planned, and an affront to the classic ideal of a horse, but Hugo knew from the army that perfect measurements didn't make a perfect horse. Spot had rock-hard hoofs, dry legs, plenty of muscle where it counted and plenty of mane and tail but fortunately no socks. He really disliked those socks more than the garish colouring and the heavy heads. But he could find no fault with Spot physically, and he was so polite towards people Ben could have held those hoofs.

'Now we Irish have to stick together and since your wife and her boy depend on you we count you as one of us. Spot is a cross between one of our horses and something fancy, the man who sold him to us said it was a desert stallion but you and I both know they don't have a nose like that. I suppose he thought Spot needed a mysterious story to sell him but I tell you, Hugo, this is the smartest horse I've ever seen. Now most people cannot handle a smart horse, they think they do but they don't, but you need one since you said your wife needs a horse to draw her gig to emergencies. Spot won't stray beyond the nearest bush or patch of grass, he knows how long and how wide the carriage is, you can tell him to go home and he will, by the road. You can fire a musket beside him and he won't shy, and if you treat him with respect he will do what you ask of him. He is surprisingly fast as well. John, show us his gaits if you will.'

The youth took the lead rope and led the horse to the still-empty street in front of them. He then slung the lead rope over his neck and jumped on his back, without saddle or bridle, and turned him with his knees. First he let Spot walk by Hugo a few times, a good long stride that was a pleasure to watch. Next a surprisingly fast trot and even a gallop. All without rein or saddle, and yet there was nothing mechanic about the horse, it just made a conscious decision to be cooperative. Well, and it was indeed smart, for when John was done he knew and walked up to Hugo as if to ask his opinion on what he'd seen.

'I'm impressed,' Hugo said truthfully, these were not fellows one could bargain with anyway. And besides, Hugo wasn't convinced at all he wanted to buy an ugly horse, however bright and healthy, and certainly not before he'd explored the rest of the ponies on offer.

'He knows his worth, Hugo, he won't beg you to take him. You check out the other horses here and if you come back we'll talk business. Since we're as good as family you will not be displeased with our price. Do you want to ride him yourself?'

Without saddle or bridle? Well, why not, Hugo knew he was a good enough rider to direct the horse with knees and seat only. But he did not want Spot as a riding horse so there was really no reason to try him as such. Trying him in front of a carriage would have been useful, but James had told him Spot was used to pulling a carriage and he'd also said they were like family, one did not mislead one's family.

'No, not in this square, I've seen enough. I will do as you say and see what other horses can be had. I don't think I'm a snob but I may be. Thank you for your time, James, and for showing me Spot, I really admire him.'

'Only the best for my countrymen, Hugo, now do mind your missus when you're back home, Irish women are the best.'

Well, Caitlin certainly was. Hugo was in an excellent mood by now since he knew he wouldn't have to return without a pony, Spot would do very well for what they wanted from a horse and Ben and Caitlin were certain to love him whatever he looked like. But something inside Hugo still ached to have a beautiful horse of his own, training Liquor and admitting to his past had awakened some deep-seated feeling of pride in his abilities, and now it wouldn't go back to rest.

He strolled along the market, seeing plenty of ponies but none as suitable as Spot. A lot were simply too small, most were too slow, and more than he liked to see were in bad shape, either too thin or too fat or even worm-ridden or showing swollen joints or bad hoofs. Whenever he spotted a likely candidate, of course he asked to look it over and inquired after its history, but none of the horses were as suitable as Spot and though most were better looking, they were not handsome enough to make up for their further lack of qualities. Whatever Hugo did and however many horses he saw, Spot was lodged in his mind.

When he had seen all the horses, he decided to find a noon meal in an establishment he used to visit regularly in the recent past. It was less posh than the inn where he had stabled Liquor, he felt like a little chat with visiting farmers or hungry horse merchants and they would seek out the cheaper places in town. After his meal he would first find someone who could sell him spectacles for Ben, and then he'd return to James the Irish horse trader and bargain over Spot.

It was a pretty town and Hugo had some fond memories attached to it, he'd had a lot of friends here for a long time, though admittedly those were not friendships a married man should aim to continue. Mostly they were people he'd hung out with in pubs, the men fond of beer and rowdy singing, the women looking for a night in an attentive man's arms. Maybe those men had also been hoping to spend the night with one of those women, but Hugo had never spotted any jealousy in any of them. He'd either spent the night with that evening's lady, or they had gone to his room in the inn, depending on whether the woman in question had a husband at home or not. It was hard to imagine himself spending any time with one of those women now, even just drinking beer together and having a good time. He'd rather play games with Ben and Caitlin, and discuss all sorts of things with Rose and Darren.

The houses on both sides of the cobbled street were made of local sandstone and all had their doorsteps scrubbed and curtains washed and starched perfectly. He had never noticed those details before but since he lived in a village and Caitlin often sighed about various tasks she felt she had to do regularly just to keep her local reputation as spotless as her windows, he was developing an eye for them. Just like loose straw being blown through the stables and rakes lying about or worse, lamps in places where they weren't allowed, details were important. But those things were dangerous, Hugo had never seen any danger in dirty steps and grubby curtains. Still, after their conversation about that disease he had to admit Mrs Reynolds wasn't overly fastidious to insist on everyone cleaning up before dinner, it was just the right thing to do.

As he passed a little alley on his way to the Brown Bull just ahead he heard a voice raised in warning, with just enough fear mixed in to draw his attention. It had an Irish accent and reminded him of the lad who'd ridden Spot to show Hugo his paces.

'I know there's six of you and just one of me, but that's no reason to quarrel now, is it? I'm sure you can find something else to do, maybe your mum needs help doing the dishes?'

Well if he was afraid of six local boys he wouldn't taunt them, would he? Anyway, Hugo didn't like bullies, so instead of continuing to the pub he walked straight into the alley. It was darker and it stank of refuse, but Hugo could easily discern six large boys circling a single youngster. The difference in clothing was suddenly very obvious, John, for it indeed was him, stood out with his longish hair in a pony tail and rather flowing garb. Hugo could easily see why the local youths wouldn't like him, he looked rather more interesting than the lot of them, it would be very easy for them to consider him a competitor for the girls they likely claimed. And of course he was Irish, for some that was enough reason to dislike a perfectly harmless man or woman. Since Hugo had encountered plenty of that himself because of his rather different looks, his French accent and his success with the opposite sex, and he felt rather secure dealing with boys in general, he did not hesitate or consider his own continued health, he just stepped in.

'Good afternoon, gentlemen, excuse me, yes, please let me pass. Ha, John, I thought it was you, you're just the fellow I need. About that horse you rode for me, do you think you can answer some more questions to let me know what I'm in for with him?'

Hugo had forced himself past two of the local boys and was now standing beside the Irish lad. He seemed relieved to have a companion and for a moment it looked as if his persecutors had fallen for Hugo's brashness. John smiled and replied, 'Everyone's favourite, Spot. Ask away, I've done a lot of work with him.'

'We don't like your kind either, frog. But you're too old to steal our girls so if you leave quickly we'll let you go without a fight.'

Hugo was tempted to tell the little snot how he'd likely frolicked with his mother or older sister once or twice in the past but he was supposed to be the adult here and try to calm the situation, not drive up the tension. He wasn't afraid, John could clearly defend himself and there wasn't really anything they could do to Hugo without the advantage of weapons as well as numbers. John was likely afraid to have the disadvantage in a scuffle because he was a stranger and Irish, but Hugo knew enough people here to feel safe from persecution. Boys didn't get into fights by accident, these had likely caused grief before and would have a reputation as trouble makers. Hugo was certainly not letting them anywhere near John.

'Who did you bring to do the fighting, lad?' he retorted, 'I don't see anyone here I feel inclined to run away from.'

To intimidate them, Hugo looked at each of the boys in turn, his sternest look, enough to put the fear of God into his stable boys. It worked on four, they were about sixteen or seventeen and mostly still boys in appearance: as small or smaller than Hugo himself and narrow in the shoulders and arms. Their faces were still round and smooth, as Bruce's had been when he first arrived at Pemberley. They would not cause trouble for an adult who radiated authority.

The one who had spoken was taller than Hugo and more manly in his appearance, which had apparently given him the impression he could bluff a retired cavalry officer. He was blond and scruffy looking but dressed well, his parents had money though not enough to send him to school or he wouldn't be here, causing trouble. The sixth young man was as tall, dark of hair and with the faint start of a beard, and he was eager for a scrap, he'd try to get in the first blow with the leader edging him on and the others hanging back. Well, Hugo would be ready for him.

'Ah, you think your friend can handle an old froggy. Let's see how tough you are, then, but let me warn you, I've beaten countless French. Privates mostly, but there were some officers. Still spoiling for a fight?'

Those had been his comrades in arms, of course, but cavalry training was way more serious than a street brawl with some boys. There had been some enemies he'd had to face unarmed as well, but none of these small town English ruffians would know what a Hussar was, whereas they all knew the reputation of the French soldiers.

'You let me handle this, John, not because I think you're a coward or a bad fighter but because I can beat up a few town boys with impunity. You'll likely get into trouble even over a black eye or two.'

John nodded and held back, though he was still on his guard. He'd undoubtedly seen his share of fights and he was not afraid of the scuffle but rather the blaming that usually followed, where the foreigner was always the suspect and could expect a berating, a beating or being run out of town by bystanders and sometimes even the watch. Hugo had run into prejudice himself for being French, but John was Irish and as Hugo was starting to realise probably a member of a community the locals called travellers, and they were not welcome in many places. Though their horses were reputed to be the best, even those they sold to outsiders, which were basically their culls, not good enough to keep for themselves.

Finally, the tallest boy had worked up enough courage to attack an adult male, be it a really small and slender one, but with quite a menacing demeanour. Hugo's stable boys heeded him well enough under any circumstances, and four out of six of these boys had no intentions of scuffling with a decent-looking middle aged man. But they might still go for the flamboyantly attired youngster he was aiming to protect.

Any weakness on Hugo's part might also set them off, but the way the tall young man approached him did not fill him with any fear of losing the initiative to him. He had the longer reach, sure, but the way he tried to exploit it showed the overgrown boy had no real experience in fighting. How to put him out of action with the least possible damage? Words wouldn't do it anymore, he would have to hit him to make his point. Though these boys didn't have any class it would probably be best to stick to the British gentlemen's rules for altercations, it would make Hugo look respectable instead of spoiling for a fight. And, in a non life-threatening situation, gentlemen's boxing forms were effective enough.

Ducking beneath the young man's long arms, Hugo delivered a single firm blow to his stomach, a perfectly respectable offence that would hardly show from the outside but cause significant pain in the days to come. The boy doubled up with a cry of dismay, that young farmer in Ripley had been a lot better fighter, at least in taking his licks.

Hugo had expected his display of fighting prowess to bring the other ruffians to reason but somehow it enraged them, even the four still-beardless boys. As their companion stood gasping for breath, the five closed in on Hugo, ignoring John altogether, seemingly about to jump him as a group. So much for gentlemanly conduct. Hugo made ready to defend himself with a lot less dignity than he'd planned, expecting John to join the fray as soon as the violence started, afraid for the Irish boy and his comrades but not for himself. He could take a few hits from unarmed boys, but trouble with the watch would certainly spoil his plans of getting a pair of spectacles for Ben and maybe even his procuring a horse for their gig.

'That's enough, Benjamin! And you, too, Neil, Fraser, Dick and whatever your names are. Bothering our customers in broad daylight, you've really gone too far this time, this isn't youthful brashness anymore, this is delinquency!'

Hugo looked towards the booming voice and saw the cook and owner of the Brown Bull legging it towards them. He was really angry, and not at Hugo, whom he had clearly recognized.

'I'm sorry, Mr Hugo, I gave my boy the morning off to enjoy the market but I can see now I shouldn't have. Please come to the Bull and have a pint on me, and bring your stable boy, he can have one, too, if you allow it.'

The 'leader' of the gang of boys, apparently the owner's son, was not very impressed by his father's tirade and dared to gainsay him.

'That is not a stable boy but a damned gypsy! And the old one is a frog! He hit Joe!'

Now the cook turned a bright red and seized his boy by the collar of his coat. The smaller boys scattered, leaving Joe, still out of breath and slightly dazed, and John, undoubtedly wishing to making himself scarce as well but hesitant to leave a man who'd stood up for him to take the heat by himself. Hugo decided to let him make his own decision, he was young but an adult, and Hugo did wonder what choice he'd make.

The cook did not hit or shake his son though he could have, he was yet taller and a lot wider, but instead shook his head and said in a calm, almost sad voice, 'I thought I'd raised you a Christian, boy, but I can see I have erred. If you cannot treat your neighbour like yourself out of kindness, let me try to explain in a way you may understand. Mr Hugo here is the master of the Pemberley stables. He is Mr Darcy's stable master. You know who Mr Darcy is, don't you?'

The young man still didn't bow to his father's will.

'Of course I know who Mr Darcy is but what is he to me? He lives miles away on his fancy estate, he doesn't come here to visit our pub. You are my father, why don't you stand up for me? You didn't even consider this stable master might be in the wrong here, he may have hit Joe with no reason at all. He may be in league with this gypsy for all you know.'

The cook shook his head again and addressed Hugo instead.

'I suppose you know boys as well as I do, Mr Hugo. The missus and I did our best with Benjamin but with him being the youngest of four children we may have spoiled him. It won't happen again, I assure you, he'll stay in the scullery until he learns some manners.'

'I am a great believer in dirty jobs to teach young folks manners, Mr Brown,' Hugo said truthfully, 'as most of my stable boys can testify. I commend you for not giving up.'

Though Mr Brown reacted with humour, Hugo could see Benjamin was in deep trouble.

'How can I, when he is my own blood? Do you have any children of your own, Mr Hugo?'

'I've a boy of ten by marriage but he is bookish. If he is ever to cause me grief I don't think dirty chores will do any good. But my wife has raised him well so far, she'll likely start on me soonish.'

Now Mr Brown managed a hearty laugh.

'I'm glad you're not angry, sir. Please do get that pint on me, and you, too, young man, even if I do see now you're not a stable boy at all. It's little enough compensation for the mess my son and his friends got you in.'

'Thank you, sir,' John replied, 'if Mr Darcy's stable master will have me at his table?'

'I'd hire you if I thought you'd be interested. Come along then, there are still some questions I'd like to ask you about Spot.'

As they walked towards the pub, Hugo could see Mr Brown directing his son to the side door of his establishment where'd come from himself, then descending on Joe, who had still not disappeared.

Since they now entered the pub, they couldn't see or even hear what Mr Brown did to the young man, but it was clear John was curious.

'I hope he isn't too hard on the fellow. He wasn't a good fighter, sir, but at least he wasn't a coward like their four friends. Still, the six of them could have gotten me and my family in serious trouble even though I think I could have taken on the lot and won.'

'I think you might have, but it would most likely have gotten your family banned from the market for a long time.'

'Indeed it would. Which is why I am very grateful to you for coming to my defence, sir. I swear I didn't do or say anything to provoke them. It happens a lot, boys trying to prove themselves men at my expense, but I am what I am. I shouldn't have gone out by myself but I was hungry and I'd been to the Brown Bull before and the staff were nice enough.'

'My wife is Irish, John, she was shunned for ten years by the whole village despite saving most of the people's lives at least once during that time. I'm French, I've had people object to that publicly, though not a whole village, what is it with English people?'

John looked shocked.

'Ten years? Why didn't she move on? I thought it was just us, not because we're Irish but because we never stay in the same place for long. They call us gypsies and say we steal things, but we're just more clever at trading than they are.'

So they were travellers. Not that it mattered, Hugo liked John, and James, and mostly Spot.

'She couldn't because she had a little boy to take care of. But everything is different now, she moved to a new village where the people are kind and she's no longer alone or poor.'

'Because she has you, sir, to take care of her and her son. That is just beautiful. And she'll have a worthy pony soon to help her save more lives. What would you like to know about Spot, sir?'

They talked for half an hour whilst enjoying a pint and a hearty meal, and spoke to Mr Brown, who came by with his thoroughly chastised son to have him make an apology in person. Hugo and John both accepted it graciously, it sounded sincere enough, and Hugo used the opportunity to ask Mr Brown where he might find a tradesman who could sell him a pair of spectacles. Since he had decided to buy Spot and John knew of his intention, he could fulfil this important quest first, before he saddled himself with not one but two horses.

Armed with an address he went on his way, and he soon found the recommended shop. After describing Ben's problem to the clerk, the man told him he didn't have any ready-made in a child's size, but he could make one in a week. But he thought it better to bring Ben in and do a few tests first, to find a better functioning model that would last Ben for years. And since spectacles turned out to be more expensive than Hugo expected Spot to be, he decided to take the extra time and treat Ben to a visit to town as soon as possible. Maybe all three of them could go, Caitlin would love visiting some shops ahead of their long-expected wedding.

Which meant he went back to the travellers' stall empty handed, but with the certainty he could give Ben the help he needed to study well. His reception by the Irish group of men was hearty, of course, he hadn't expected differently. James expressed his feelings but it was clear he spoke for all of them.

'Hugo, so good to see you back here. You've proven yourself a true friend by standing up for one of us, thank you very much. I suppose you won't let us celebrate you tonight?'

'I'm sorry, but I need to return the black before dark.'

'And the Irish wifey is waiting. We wouldn't want to be the cause of your being on the receiving end of an Irish woman's temper. But we're thankful nonetheless, and we will make our gratitude more tangible. So, John told us you've decided to throw your lot in with Spot?'

Hugo nodded, and decided not to say something like 'If the price is right'. They would do well by him, he was certain.

'You won't regret it, he was meant for someone like you.'

And he mentioned a price that was almost an insult to Spot, but Hugo knew it was to thank him for saving their boy and possibly their business. Things could get ugly when a town turned on a group of travellers, and James had an abrasive tongue, he did not go around making friends of everyone he met.

'If you can let him go for that price I'm happy to take him with me. He will be adored by my wife and child, they have no prejudices of what a horse should look like. And I couldn't stop thinking of him, I think my mind is changing as well.'

'It's settled then. Anyone else I'd advise to ride Spot and lead the black, but I think there is more to you than even we can see at first glance. John told me you were in the army in France?'

Again, Hugo nodded and said, 'Cavalry officer.'

'Then you can handle that black devil and lead Spot all at once. One word of warning.'

James now turned towards the church tower and nudged his head towards a group of three uncouth men standing there, smoking and even drinking publicly. Hugo had never seen them before, either they were new in town or traders like James and his mates.

'Men like those are the reason we travel in a group. They follow the markets like we do, except they do not buy or sell livestock or wares for their living. They steal and rob, merchants, villagers, townspeople, everyone is fair game to them.'

'Why doesn't the watch stop them?'

'They're smart, they pick out their victims carefully and use their superior numbers, or the dark, or intoxication to surprise them. They'll find some poor drunk to rob tonight, but if they see you leaving town with two horses they may try for you.'

'Do they have horses themselves?'

'They don't. I think they ambush their victims.'

'Then I thank you for the warning, I'll keep an eye out when I leave town and make a bit of speed to put some distance between them and me. Will you be all right? They'll most likely try to pin their misdeeds on you.'

'They've tried, but we make sure to camp with the other merchants. We have witnesses and they get a measure of protection, everybody wins. But if they leave camp and get drunk, they're on their own. Thank you again, Hugo, and good luck with Spot.'

As one of the other men secured a sturdy lead rope to Spot's halter, John thanked Hugo again and took his leave.

'If you ever want to get settled, come see me at the Pemberley stables, I can always use a natural horseman like you.'

Hugo knew John would never be another man's servant, but he wanted John to know where he could find him if he ever ran into trouble he couldn't handle by himself. And who knew, maybe John would lose his wandering feet one day and seek a steady place. That boy from Newcastle didn't sound very promising, though Hugo would give him every chance to settle in with the Pemberley staff.

The stable-boy of the inn held Spot for him whilst he fetched Liquor, and before the market was closed, Hugo was on his way back to Pemberley. Spot was as well-behaved as James and John promised, but Liquor didn't like having a horse on his heels that he didn't know. Still, Hugo didn't worry, he suspected Spot would follow even if he had to let go of the lead rope to control Liquor, it was as if the horse knew he was supposed to go home with Hugo.

Though he felt a bit ashamed of himself, he was glad to reach Pemberley during the staff's dinner time, which meant the stables were deserted. Despite everything, he was a bit ashamed to have bought an ugly horse, and he feared it would spoil his reputation as expert on horses. He would be glad to have a little time to get used to Spot himself, first.

The Pemberley horses were chewing their hay in the paddock, and after a good rubdown, Liquor was glad to join Mr Manners' other horses in their paddock, just in time for his own dinner.

Hugo knew he would be late himself, fortunately Caitlin knew to expect that, and at least he didn't have to walk home. He could easily borrow a bridle and even an old saddle from the tack room, but he decided to test John's way of riding by fastening the lead rope to the halter as reins and doing without a saddle. It was a tiny risk that the touch of pride inside him insisted he must take. After all, it wasn't that far and he could do anything some Irish youngster could.

When Caitlin saw Rover rushing to the back door, wagging his tail, she knew it was Jean returning. He was quite late, but town was quite far, and if he hadn't found a pony he'd have had to walk all the way back from Pemberley.

When she opened the door, she heard hoof beats. That meant he'd bought a pony, or maybe he had merely decided to borrow Liquor for the night. Ben rushed past her, followed by Rover.

'You've bought a horse, a beautiful horse! When can I ride him? He's so big, almost as big as Liquor!'

Ben was no longer a miniature adult, he was as noisy and as enthusiastic as any young boy eager for a pleasure he'd been promised some time ago.

'We'll settle him in for the night, then give him tomorrow to adjust to his new home, and if he does well you can ride him after classes. I want a saddle for you, which means I need to brave the attic above the stables to look for one that will fit him.'

The sound of Jean's deep, calm voice still gave Caitlin a thrill, and she realised she had missed him more than if he'd just gone to work. Maybe because she would have liked to go to town with him? More likely she was just afraid he'd run into some old lover of his.

'You have no idea how much I have missed you, you beautiful Irish woman!'

She hadn't noticed him getting off the horse and coming towards her until he had her in his arms. Despite having been out and about all day, he didn't seem tired at all, he must like that new pony very much.

'If you missed me as much as I missed you, I know exactly how much. A lot. Now show me the horse, did you tie it up really quickly?'

'No, Spot is a very special horse, I gave his lead rope to Ben because a child can handle him. I bought him from a few countrymen of yours, got an excellent price on him as well.'

Caitlin didn't have to ask whether the horse would be a good buy if it was cheap, Jean knew everything there was to know about horses, no one had ever managed to sell him an unsound one. But comparing what he had taught her about horses to the animal in front of her, Spot had to be the ugliest horse in existence. Lanky, skewbald with glaring white patches in weird places, legs long enough for a full-sized horse, was that a ram's nose as well? Caitlin loved Spot already, but she couldn't believe Jean had dared bring him home.

She offered Spot her hand to sniff, which he did immediately, taking his time. Then she scratched his neck and ears, and his long lip showed his appreciation.

'So, what do you think of our new horse?'

Somehow, she felt embarrassed to share her observations with Jean where Spot could hear it. It was as if he would understand everything she said, in which case he would be hurt to hear people calling him ugly. She decided to merely hint at it.

'I love him already, he looks so good natured. But he is not the kind of horse I would have expected you to bring home, so he must really be very special for you to fall for him.'

For it was obvious Jean had fallen for him, he looked positively thrilled. And now he started to laugh, as if he understood her reluctance to speak her mind in front of a horse to spare its feelings.

'Well, I see you have already discovered yourself why he is special. He is so smart he seems to understand what you want from him without having to explain. The trader I bought him from says he knows how large the carriage is that he pulls, and that he won't stray far if you just let him loose. And that he remembers how to get home, by the road.

His mother was an Irish traveller's horse and the farmer they bought him from said his father was a desert horse. He declared that to be nonsense, since Spot has a ram's nose and Arab horses have the opposite. But Spot is fast, sober and very smart, he followed me like a puppy already, it's as if he knew his own people. I saw some better looking horses but they were too old, too fat or too nervous. And I want you and Ben to be able to ride or drive our own horse, which means Spot is the perfect pony for us.'

It was as if Spot was indeed studying her and Ben, to add to his list of people he knew. But Jean must be hungry, and the horse tired after standing in a busy market all day and making quite a journey afterwards.

'Do you want to let him graze until it gets dark? Ben will keep an eye on how he gets along with the goats, and we can eat our dinner together. He has had his already to allow us a quiet meal.'

'I'd love that, yes. Thank you, Ben, I am indeed very hungry, to look my fill of your beautiful mother whilst we eat. And when we're done I'll tell you about an exciting adventure I had with an Irish lad called John. I also found a craftsman who can make a pair of glasses for you, but he advised to take you along for some tests, to be able to make a pair that is a perfect fit. I thought we'd try to go before the wedding, so we can bring your mother along to buy her some pretty things to wear.'

Caitlin even had some money to spend on herself, though she guessed Jean wanted to treat her. Her dress was being made by a seamstress Mrs Reynolds had arranged, and that excellent lady had promised to arrange suitable slippers to go with it. But Caitlin secretly fancied wearing some beautiful ornament in her hair, and the ladies of the house were used to wearing gloves, which did look very nice, if one could afford them.

She discovered she really wanted to go to town, she used to feel uncomfortable among people, but with Jean she always felt safe, and she no longer feared strangers, she had a husband who loved her, a village to support her and people at the great house who respected her. Maybe she could find Jean something nice as well, she knew he was a bit vain and loved beautiful things.

'I'd love to go to town together, my love. We have the gig, we have a pony, we just need some spare time to do it.'

'That will be the most difficult for you, my love, with everyone needing you straight away. But we'll find a day, and in time for the wedding. Now how about that dinner?'