Chapter 12

What happened next was lost in the confusion of the scene. The horse charged forward, completely out of control, and Lydia fell to the ground, shielding herself as Philip fell on top of her.

The horse leaped over them, charging off across the grass as Lydia and Philip lay breathless on the ground. For a moment, everything was dark—Lydia had lost consciousness—and when she opened her eyes, she found Philip looking down at her, his hands clasped around her.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over him," a voice from above them said.

Lydia looked up to find a terrified stable hand looking down at them.

A small crowd had gathered, and Philip now scrambled to his feet, holding out his hand to Lydia, who was relieved to find she was not injured. But the shock of what had happened had left her confused.

Why had the horse behaved in such a way? Why had it charged towards them? She looked around her, still confused as to what had happened.

"But… what? It came out of nowhere!" she cried as Philip put his arm around her.

"It's all right—it's been caught. It bolted, that's all. There's no harm done," he said, brushing the grass and twigs from her dress.

"No harm? But we could've been killed!" Lydia exclaimed, and she glared at him as the stable hand continued to apologize.

"I'm sorry, My Lady. He's usually such a quiet, tame beast. I was seeing to the carriage. I wasn't watching him. He usually just stands still—good as gold, he is. But something scared him, and he bolted. We've got him now," the stable hand assured her.

He was only a boy, perhaps no more than sixteen, and it was not his fault the horse had bolted. But Lydia knew enough about horses to know that a usually placid horse did not simply bolt for no reason, and now that she had overcome the shock, she wanted to know why it had happened.

"I want to see the horse. What's its name?" she asked.

The stable hand called to another boy who had the horse by the reins. "Stamper, My Lady. Please, don't blame him. He's usually so good. I'd hate to see anything happen to him," he pleaded.

Lydia shook her head. "Don't worry, I'm not going to have him punished. I just want to know why he did what he did," she said.

She made her way over to the horse, taking the reins and running her hand over the its back, whispering to it in a soft, soothing tone.

The horse whinnied, but it stood still, and it seemed it was now calm, even as Lydia feared the incident would occur again.

"Is something wrong?" Philip asked.

"I don't think so, but…" Lydia trailed off, running her hands over the horse's back and down to its hind legs.

But as she did so, the horse suddenly winced, kicking out as her hand touched the upper part of its leg. She pulled away, and to her surprise, she found her hand was red with blood. She wiped it surreptitiously on her shawl, not wanting anyone else to know what she had discovered. The horse had been cut, deliberately so, for she could now see the length of the wound—a hairline cut, as though from a razor blade or a thin knife.

"Was anyone else nearby when the horse bolted?" Lydia asked, turning to the stable hand, who shook his head.

"I'm not sure. I was busy with the carriage. Why do you think he bolted?"

"I don't know. Someone must've scared him," she replied.

Lydia did not know why she didn't tell him, or anyone else, about the cut on the horse's leg. But a sudden fear had gripped her—the fear that this had been meant to happen.

A horse did not bolt unless something had been done to make it do so, and cutting the horse's leg with a blade was certain to cause it to do so. But had Lydia and Philip been the intended target, and if so, why? And by whom?

Lydia looked around her at the gathered crowd. She recognized no one, and she could think of no reason why she and Philip should be targeted.

"I'm so sorry, My Lady. Please, if you want someone to blame, blame me," the stable hand said.

Lydia shook her head. "I don't blame anyone, and certainly not you," she reassured.

But someone was to blame, and as Lydia and Philip walked away, she could not help but fear that someone wanted to seriously injure them.

* * *

"Are you sure you're all right, Lydia? You look rather pale," Philip asked as they walked away from where the carriage race had now resumed.

Lydia nodded. She was used to horses bolting, and what had happened in itself did not scare her. But it was what she had subsequently discovered she found unsettling—that the horse had been deliberately cut to make it bolt.

"I… yes, I'm all right. It's just… Well, no… it doesn't matter," she said.

She had been about to share her suspicions with him, but there was little point in doing so. He would only grow agitated, demand an investigation, and perhaps even blame the poor stable hand. No, it was better to keep the matter to herself, for now.

"You don't look it, Lydia. I'm worried about you," Philip persisted.

"Oh, stop fussing, Philip," Lydia snapped. "I'll be all right. It was just a shock, that's all. One doesn't expect a horse to come charging at one like that."

Philip nodded. "I'm sorry. It's just… I was worried about you. When I saw the horse charging towards us, I knew I had to do something. I hope I didn't hurt you by pushing you away the way I did," he said.

Lydia shook her head. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. There was no harm done. It was strange, though. Horses don't just bolt like that," she replied, for though she knew the horse had been cut, she had no idea by whom or for what reason. It was very disturbing.

They continued following the path around the boating pond. Lydia was keen to get home. She wanted to rest, but as they came to a point where a jetty jutted out into the water, a voice behind them caused Lydia to turn around. It was her cousin, Caroline, and she and Edward were now hurrying towards them.

"Oh, Lydia, how terrible for you! Are you all right?" Caroline exclaimed.

"News travels fast, it seems," Lydia whispered to Philip as they paused on the path by the jetty. "I'm all right, Caroline."

Carolien furrowed her brow. "We just heard about it from some passersby. You poor thing. You must've been terrified."

"It all happened so fast. I didn't have time to think," Lydia said, even though she had thought a great deal since…

"No, I'm sure you didn't. These things happen so quickly. No one really knows what's going on, do they? I suppose it just bolted, did it?" Carolien asked.

Lydia nodded. "I suppose it did, yes," she replied.

Edward had remained silent during this exchange. He looked somewhat miserable standing next to Caroline, and Lydia wondered if he was now regretting the decision he had made to marry her. Were they finding married life less than the romantic idyll they had expected? There was something not right, even though Lydia could not say precisely what it was.

"You poor thing. I suppose they'll do something to the horse—it's a dangerous creature," Caroline said.

Lydia shook her head. "I wouldn't hear of it. A horse bolts because something causes it to bolt. It's not the creature itself that's at fault. I said as much to the stable hand. It's all forgotten now."

But Lydia knew she would not forget what had happened that day, nor the fear she now felt as to the motive of whoever had cut the horse.

"Well, you should go home and rest, Lydia. You don't want to be ill before your wedding day," Caroline urged.

Lydia forced a smile on her face and nodded. "No, you're quite right," she agreed.

Nodding to her cousin, she looped her arm through Philip's.

"I'll take you home," he whispered.

Lydia was glad to be going home. She had had quite enough of promenading for one day, and the incident with the horse—or rather, what she had subsequently discovered—had left her anxious.

"Thank you for a… pleasant walk," Lydia said as they stopped before the front steps of the house.

Philip looked at her with a concerned expression on his face. "Shall I come in with you?" he asked. "I feel I should explain to your mother what's happened. And I wouldn't want your brother to think… well, to think things always happened when we are together."

"I'll be all right, really, I will. And I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. You… saved me. If you hadn't pushed me to the side, the horse might well have trampled me," Lydia said, for she was now beginning to realize just how close to death she had come.

"I think you had every right to. For what it's worth, I enjoyed our walk. I still think it's very strange—Caroline and Edward, I mean." Philip frowned. "I think something's happened between them, don't you?"

Lydia nodded. "I'll ask my mother about it. My aunt didn't approve of the match, to begin with. And it's clear she's jealous of me."

Philip smiled.

"Well… let her be. It's you I'm marrying, not her," he quipped.She smiled at him, and he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it.

"Thank you," she said.

Philip smiled back at her.

"As long as you'll be all right. I'll call on you in the coming days. I suppose it's not long until the wedding day, is it?" he asked.

Lydia shook her head. "We'll make the best of it, won't we?"

He nodded. "Better than that, I'm sure," he said. Then he thanked her again, before walking away.

As she watched him leave, Lydia could not help but feel grateful to him for what he had done. It was not easy for either of them, and it would take time for this strange situation to become normal.

The thought of the horse, of what had happened to make it bolt, disturbed her, but as for what was to come, that was even stranger. She was to marry a man she barely knew—not now, at least—and yet she did know him, too. She knew a past version of him, one she had cared for as a friend, but with no thought to anything more. They had been children then and leading very different lives.

Perhaps we can make the best of it.

But her thoughts were still on the events surrounding the horse, and her fear as to who might be targeting them was growing…