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| Do I look like a stable boy?; Little LC and Mummy | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 16 2011, 07:13 PM (359 Views) | |
| William Spencer | Mar 16 2011, 07:13 PM Post #1 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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Spring 1506 William Spencer, Viscount Dorchester and heir to the Earldom of Wilmington, wanted nothing more than to get sent away again...or to at least have the sensical discipline and expectations of tutors and teachers - at least for part of the day - once more. Unfortunately for him, he had only just returned from his year of (mostly) freedom while studying the art of training and breeding horses for war under several fine masters on the continent. Now he was back in dreary England, under the constant watch of his fastidious and unforgiving grandfather or his cronies. Not even being around horses, which he loved, was a consolation prize to the presence of his grandfather. Assisting the grand Master of Horse, whom everyone else ironically seemed to like greatly, might have been a grand duty if it were not for the presence of the man who had never cared for him nor pretended to. Why the man had not just left him in France! The aging Lord Wilmington was certainly doing less and less himself despite making his presence well-known, and William might have done far better if left alone. It was all "Dorchester this" and "Dorchester that". Or "Blasted William" or "Boy" or the favoured "You infernal idiot". Not to mention that the man loved to squish his grandson firmly into place far beneath him, or at least it seemed that way by his highly contrived punishments of tasks fit for some common stable-boy. The other day the man had actually asked him to fetch buckets of water for cleaning a kick wound on one of the king's stallions when there was a horde of said commoners around to do it. The man had only even been out there because it was one of His Majesty's most favoured horses. Today his only novel task at hand was to offer some riding instruction his grandfather had promised to some lady and her daughter for him. Clad simply in black with just a black leather jerkin over his linen shirt, he was squatting by the cut foreleg of the previously injured stallion, examining the healing of it so he could tell the others how to move forward with its care. The hour of the arrival of his charge was approaching as he pulled the wound apart a bit with his fingers, his sleeves rolled up, as he probably looked every bit the common help to anyone who did not know him. The spring sun easily illuminated the red flesh by the opening of the stables where he could see what he was doing. |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Mar 16 2011, 07:25 PM Post #2 |
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vérité sans peur
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Young Catherine Willoughby, the 12th Baroness Willoughby of Eresby for two years now since the youthful demise of her father, was often dragged to do whatever it was her mother wanted her to. And as an obedient daughter she had to do it. The problem was as often as she tried to be obedient, she just didn't have it in her. Pinches and slaps were common from her strict mother, Mary Willoughby, who was intent on her daughter becoming a prize for any man in a few years: obedient, polite, educated enough to hold conversations. "But my lady mother," whined twelve year old Catherine as she followed her mother's insistent stride, almost tumbling over the long skirt of her brown riding gown, "you remember when I learned to ride! I hate it. I hate it." The girl with a keen memory recalled her first time on a horse. She had fallen off, the creature having been particularly unruly, and her father laughed and told her to get back on again. She refused, stomping her feet, and her father laughed even harder. Lady Willoughby turned to her daughter, squinting down at her. "You need to learn to ride properly, Catherine. No man will want you if you look like a peasant on the back of a horse," she declared firmly, shaking her head as she grabbed the girl's little hand and dragged her towards the stables. Visiting court was rare, as Catherine spent most of her time at the family home of Grimsthorpe Castle with attendants such as governesses, tutors and confessors. Her mother was in service to Queen Elizabeth of York, often away from home, as her position at court was more important than her position as a mother. Nevertheless, missives were sent between all those watching over the girl and her mother, making sure she would grow to be a credit to her family name. That was why riding was so important. Or something like that. Catherine didn't care. She hated court, acting like a perfect adult who said nothing, occasionally speaking out of turn--and saying something rude which earned her a slap from her mother later. Beating out the attitude hadn't worked but Mary Willoughby wouldn't stop trying. "Here we are. Come, now, Catherine, don't act like a stupid child. You are really too old for such fears." For a moment, the woman had softened, patting her daughter's dark hair before pushing her towards the young man. "Boy!" shouted Mary, eyeing him. She had arranged all of this in advance, that some young man of breeding and class would teach Catherine how to sit properly in the saddle and so on without a temper tantrum. She knew that being in such a situation, far from home, her daughter would (generally) behave. "Fetch me the Viscount Dorchester, he is to teach my daughter the baroness to ride." In a little voice, Catherine protested, "But I can ride..." Given a sharp look from her blue eyed mother, the girl shut her mouth. For now. |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Mar 16 2011, 07:37 PM Post #3 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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William heard some chattering coming toward them as he examined the wound, looking at the colour of any fluids that came out. Seeing nothing other than the colour of blood, he was quite satisfied with the progress. This, apparently, was one of the king's favourite stallions, and he hardly wanted his grandfather to blame and punish him if anything went wrong. Such was the wrath of his grandfather, that he did not even give thought to what the king might think of losing his horse. "Boy!" A voice cut through the soft sounds of the stables. The young Lord Dorchester did not bother looking or looking up, because he hardly expected that it was he that was being addressed that way. There were several stable boys about, and he was concentrated on the horse. However, as soon as he heard "Fetch me the Viscount Dorchester, he is to teach my daughter the baroness to ride" he did raise his blue eyes even if he did not rise right away. The lady and her daughter must be his appointment, and he hardly liked the sound of the lady. "One moment, my lady," he replied, hardly any traces of an accent remaining in his easy voice, although there was something certainly worldly about his way of speaking which was likely suspicious. William really had little idea that she thought him some stable-boy, as he had not realized she had been addressing him. He thought it only coincidence that he was there tending the horse while one of the boy's held it and another was eying the leg with him. It was certainly within his right to ask for a moment politely, but definitely not within the right of whom she thought he was. He had no inkling that his behaviour might have insulted her unintentionally. He had no idea she thought him a common stable-boy. |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Mar 16 2011, 07:43 PM Post #4 |
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vérité sans peur
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The boy made her wait! How dare he, a mere stable boy, do such a thing to a woman who was a well-respected member of the English court and the English nobility. How dare he. "One moment?" snapped Lady Willoughby, scowling. "You tell me one moment? Fetch him!" Catherine cringed at her mother's outburst. She was half-amazed at the boy's--young man's?--audacity, and half-afraid for him considering rising her mother's temper was a dangerous thing indeed. Something Catherine had inherited from the Neville side of the family. "My lady mother," she whispered, wishing she could calm her mother, but there was nothing to be done. Mary Willoughby looked fairly incensed at being told to wait when it was the scheduled time for her to bring her young daughter for a riding lesson. If he told her to wait, she would not; she would make a scene of it. No one brushed a lady of the nobility off, certainly not some common boy who was lucky to work in the King's stables. "Fetch me the Viscount Dorchester, as I requested, and do so now or you shall hear of your poor behavior from Her Majesty herself of whom I am a lady to." Catherine glanced anxiously from her mother to this young man, how he was still busy with the huge creature that was surely keen on stomping her or throwing her off or some other horrible thing, and ignoring her mother's rage. Had it been the fellow ignoring her, she would have commanded a similar temper, rather amusing from a young lady such as herself, only twelve, not exactly frightening as it was from her mother who was loud with her eyes flashing anger at the stable boy's insolence. |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Mar 16 2011, 07:57 PM Post #5 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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"You tell me one moment? Fetch him!" William who was still looking at the flesh of the animal now realized that this woman was talking to him. He was a bit annoyed by the mistake, but she would surely realize that the business of His Majesty's favoured stallion was of more important than a riding lesson for a wee Baroness. "Fetch me the Viscount Dorchester, as I requested, and do so now or you shall hear of your poor behavior from Her Majesty herself of whom I am a lady to." Looking up as she renewed her insistence, his fingers bloody, he replied with a bit more curtness than was likely advisable for his age, "Madam, I am Dorchester, and I am sure Her Majesty would understand that the business of His Majesty's prized stallion is of more immediate importance than your lovely and esteemed daughter. Just a moment now, if you please, Lady Willoughby." He nearly added 'unless of course, you would like to explain to the king why we had to slit the animal's throat to put it from misery after not being able to heal it'; however, he refrained from that. Somewhere, he knew that this incident was likely going to get him into trouble with his grandfather. The lady would likely not like his manner or what he had to say and would likely not own her mistaking him as the cause of such. Finally, he finished with the horse and gave the instructions, "Wash it out and pat it dry before reapplying that poultice and wrapping it back up." As the boy led the horse away, he turned to the ladies, ready to give them his undivided attention. He wiped his hands on some cloth held out to him and finally gave them a short bow, "Now, my lady, I am happy to see to helping your daughter." His annoyance at being harped at likely shown through his words. It was hardly his fault she mistook him! What did she expect, for him to be wearing his finest silk and gold in the stables? Admittedly, he probably could have been wearing some jewelry to make his status a bit more obvious, but he was not the one who had immediately been quite rude...and he was barely seventeen, so always thought himself right. He gave the small girl a smile in greeting, despite all that and her mother,"Baroness." Lord Wilmington was still cursing the death of his son and his son's eldest, wondering why God saw fit to saddle him with a half-French heir. Second marriage indeed. His son should be the one dealing with the repercussions of his oh so strategic choice of second wife. What good was a half-french boy as the next Earl of Wilmington and Spencer patriarch. Certainly his grandson was no good at all for such a task, and William the elder was quite intent to beat the french out of the boy and bring the boy to task before his own death. He was not growing younger. It was evidenced by how slowly and stately he walked with his ornate walking stick. The pains in his limbs from growing old, and from the sounds of it, a boy he clearly could not trust to see to things properly while he rested himself. The voice carried through the stables where he had come in through another door, and he hurried his pace just slightly. Damn his lameness! As threats of Her Majesty tittered out imperiously and the boy spouted back, Wilmington frowned deeply. He could hit the boy everyday and not squish any of that typical arrogance of the French out of Dorchester. "Boy!" he barked, as they came into sight as Wilmington exited the stable into the sunlight, nobody able to mistake who he was by his dress and comportment. "Hold your discourteous tongue." As soon as William heard that 'Boy', he knew it was directed at him. He heard such so often from his grandfather. It instantaneously changed his demeanor quite considerably. The small smile on his face that had been intent on solving the misidentification was wiped clear off as the man smacked the back of his head as he came up and put a threatening hand on his bad shoulder. "Ahhh, Lady Willoughby, I heard the troubled sound of your voice from inside. If the boy has insulted you, I will see him punished for it, as you see fit," he said congenially. |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Mar 17 2011, 03:35 PM Post #6 |
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vérité sans peur
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It was clear as day the young girl was fairly embarrassed at her mother's outburst, bowing her head as she stepped back out of the way, not wanting to be associated with it. Catherine was embarrassed enough by her mother's haughty behavior, something she'd inherited herself but rarely deployed it. She didn't need to, she was a young lady of twelve with no real companions and was only at court for a few days out of the year. For now she would feel bad for this stable boy-- But wait. He said he was the Viscount Dorchester? Oh, dear. Catherine jerked her head up, blue eyes snapping from the boy to her mother's stern, immovable face. Her mother was only thirty five, but when she looked so angry with her lips tight and eyes narrowed, she looked far older. She hated it when Lady Willoughby looked so upset, but at least this time it was with someone who wasn't her mouthy daughter. "You were to be in my service five minutes ago, you should have gotten your business done earlier." Lady Willoughby was like many women of the nobility: the world revolved around her and her needs. She intended on her daughter learning to ride properly so later on with such skills that every noble lady needed the girl could find a suitable husband to hand the reins to. This foolish Dorchester being late in that made her mood more sour, after she had already been irritated by her child's anxiety and rudeness. Catherine did not smile back, instead eyeing William Spencer curiously, wondering if she would be comfortable in his company. She preferred to be alone best of all, and anyway, it wasn't like she'd ever really spent much time with men that weren't her confessor and tutor. "Thank you for informing the boy of his rudeness. It is something I am trying to get out of my daughter," said Mary Willoughby as she flashed a smile to Wilmington. She then bobbed a respectful curtsy. She simply was a lady, once married to a baron and so a baroness, but now a widow and mother to a rich heiress she had grand plans for. Her husband's early death relegated her to little more than nothing on the totem pole of court life, despite her service to Her Majesty. "He was busy whilst I arrived here with my daughter who is to learn to ride from him for I have heard he is good with animals, and my daughter is not. She's a foolish girl for all her smarts." She shook her head. "Her late father, my lord husband, tried to get her to ride, but alas, she never quite liked it but she must learn to look well in the saddle, eh?" Catherine wrinkled her nose at the insult with the compliment, but that was her mother's way. She curtsied properly to Wilmington, making sure she stood straight and tall, looking like a proper little doll. First appearances were everything, she'd learned that as a little girl. Mary glanced to Catherine and nodded approvingly, giving her a small smile that was near imperceptible. She was intent on making her girl a perfect, proper lady. "And as we are already late, I think she ought to get on one of these horses, hm?" The look she sent her daughter was cold, the smile vanishing: 'If you dare protest I will slap you so hard your head will spin into next week.' Despite her uneasiness the twelve year old just nodded, sneaking a look to the boy who had smiled at her and was apparently the one who would teach her to ride, her eyes anxious. Catherine wanted to say something but found herself tongue-tied in front of old Wilmington, not wanting to say something to anger her mother. It was fine in front of servants and family; not so good in front of powerful men. |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Mar 17 2011, 04:15 PM Post #7 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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William simply did not look at this entire situation the way the elder baroness looked at the situation. He quirked a brow as the woman said that he was to be in her service five minutes ago and that he should have gotten his business done earlier. Had he not just said it was not his business? Did he stutter? William was not some small child, he was a titled man - at least the way he saw it - and he did not like being treated with such blatant disregard. It was enough that his own grandfather treated him like an unfavoured servant. He had been about to answer her when his grandfather made his appearance and smacked the back of his head, halting the words that had been brewing in his mouth. "My Lord," he said instead, greeting his grandfather with bowed head, not having any familial warmth in his voice at all. His grandfather spoke his greetings and then gave his shoulder a small squeeze, sending a jolt of pain straight down him despite the slight smile on the man's face. "I do believe the lady was speaking to you when I came up, was she not. Do you think it wise to not answer?" The warning in his grandfather's words was obvious to him: what he should say had best be an apology. William was seething on the inside. "Lady Willoughby, please forgive my lack of diligence and timeliness, I am sure it will most speedily be reformed." He knew it would be speedily reformed as soon as he was finished with this service. His grandfather would likely loom over to leap on him the moment the infernal woman and her daughter were gone. Wilmington simply smiled at the woman, "Yes, yes, It is I who facilitated the arrangements. I assure you, Lady Willoughby, that Dorchester is very skilled and trained with horses and is an apt tutor. An apt tutor who will keep his tongue to riding instruction and nothing more," he said, with his eyes narrowing in warning at the boy. Despite being man-sized and about seventeen, his grandson was no man. Not to his satisfaction. "Your daughter will look very elegant and gentile after a few sessions with Dorchester, and I further promise you will have no more problems from my grandson." He did not know if she knew that Dorchester was his grandson, and he almost regretted owning to it. Meanwhile one of the stable-boys had brought out a small, pretty grey mare with kind brown eyes. William bowed out of the conversation between the adults and curled his finger at the wee baroness almost conspiratorially, because he knew the adults were well-engaged with each other and not hawking them. He pet the nose of the small horse and asked, "What do you know of horses?" He checked over the equipage on the horse to make sure everything was fastened correctly and safely. "I can lift you up, or I can kneel so you can step on my leg like a stair so you can reach the stirrup on your own." He gave her a friendly and kind smile. "Do not be scared, I will not let anything happen to you, my grandfather will have my head or my flesh," he said, making light of it as if it were a joke. It was really only half of a joke. The man looked for any excuse to lesson him. |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Mar 18 2011, 08:23 PM Post #8 |
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vérité sans peur
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While the adults were occupied, with her mother conversing to Wilmington about something or other (mostly talking about her, which she utterly hated, because it was all stupid complimentary things peppered with comments about having such a wayward child who needed to mind her tongue), Catherine eyed William Spencer suspiciously, not knowing what to do when he made that gesture for her to come join him. All the conversation was going over her head, things she ignored, because they all entailed making Catherine a proper lady, which was what this was all about. She was a horrid dancer, decent with a needle and thread, bad at conversation and she absolutely positively hated riding because it meant horses and they always wanted to eat her, she was convinced. Or at least throw her off and stomp on her until she lay there bleeding and everyone was laughing at her as she died. Yes, Catherine put too much thought into these things, so afraid she was about the prospect of this day. However, just to get away from her mother, she took a few tentative steps towards the older boy who looked to be a few years older than she. Catherine eyed him and then the horse he brought out as if they were both her mortal enemies. Mostly the horse, not so much William. But he was the one who was going to teach her to ride, so he was an enemy too, just not as bad. "Nothing except they hate me and throw me off." Well, there was his answer from the huffy girl who frowned at him, folding her little arms across her chest. "I do not like riding, I am not good at it, and I don't like anything I am not good at because I look like a fool." Catherine was being rude because she didn't know what else to do. A good stalling tactic, even though she felt bad for him and the way her mother had treated him. "My lady mother only wants me to ride because she knows I hate it so," she grumbled with the righteous indignation of the young who knew best, of course. She was pouting as he smiled at her. She didn't trust him. "I don't want to." She could finally say it as the adults were well out of earshot and had indeed walked away, somewhere, who knew where. Close enough because Catherine knew her mother would want to see how lovely she looked after this riding session the girl was determined to ruin. "I am not going to get on," she declared, eyeing the pony and its handler, "so you do not need to worry yourself with me, you can teach someone else to ride!" |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Mar 18 2011, 09:13 PM Post #9 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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William was hoping that the young girl was as meek as she had initially appeared as her mother spouted at the mouth like a fountain. Perhaps having such a sour parent made this young lady kind and quiet. Unfortunately for him, that was not the case. "Well this one does not hate you, and one day you might have to ride and have everyone's eye on you. Would not you rather look a bit silly now to just a lowly stable-boy?" He asked with a cheeky, mischievous half-smile. Yes, he was making fun of her mother's mistake and trying to be humorously humble as well. "You do not even need to ride if you do not like. I can show you how to properly sit so you can look pretty." At least, the young Dorchester was quite willing to at least start with that. Sometimes getting something was just a measure of asking for something small at first. She was huffy and pouty and crossed her arms just like her mother. Curse his life. He was not some nurse-maid! Someone coming to learn to ride should at least be fully prepared to get on a horse. He could not exactly order her up there, well, perhaps he could. He would have rather her mother do such a thing, but he would resort to that if he had to. Brushing a bit of dark hair out of his face, he leaned forward and looked at her at more of the same height. "Baroness, I think we may be at an impasse, but I do not understand it. You mother looks the sort to...be displeased if you do not mount this horse and have your lesson. My master and grandfather is already cross with me, and if I do not carry this through to satisfaction..." he brandished the riding whip that he had stuck through his belt and held it up, careful not to put it near the horse. "...will see me whipped with this." There would not be enough ale in the world to make up for this day and there might be another just like it tomorrow. William was seeing only three possible outcomes and all three of those would likely involve the object in his hand, and he was going to get this young girl on this horse to minimize his grandfather's displeasure, no matter what he had to do. He gave her his own best pout, almost drooping his large blue eyes too. "Come now, let us take the path of least resistance, and pain, my dear. If not, your lady mother is sure to make you regret it and still get on, and we shall both suffer for it. Now, a lift or a leg?" |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Mar 21 2011, 03:19 PM Post #10 |
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vérité sans peur
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Catherine Willoughby was an obstinate little thing. She did not look too amused by his pretty words talking about how lovely she would look if she knew how to ride properly. What did it matter? And anyway, horses hated her. They scared her, but she really wouldn't admit it because that was somewhat embarrassing, and the last thing she wanted to do was admit something she knew rationally was very silly. She simply pouted at Dorchester. "Telling me I am going to look nice on a horse is stupid because I wouldn't," she declared, looking up at him with a troublesome glint to her eyes. "And I am not some stupid little girl you can...you can..." She was trying to find the word, and once she did, she almost shouted it. "I am not some stupid little girl you can tempt with looking pretty on a horse! I am not stupid." It probably wouldn't be surprising if she didn't stomp her feet, so insulted she was by his words, the disgruntled girl almost amusing in how determined she was not' to ride, and also, that she wasn't an idiot. Glancing around to make sure her mother was not in view, so she couldn't hear her daughter (because if she did, oh, Mary Willoughby would have happily dragged her by the ear away from the poor fellow), Catherine frowned up at the older boy. Five years or so seemed like a lifetime to her, only twelve, still a girl while he was practically a man. "And anyway, no one will ever have their eyes on me," she said with a child's certainty, "so you can't say that either, I don't care if everyone knows I cannot ride, because I don't like it one bit! I can marry a man who doesn't like horses at all." She knew the only reason for this, to try and make sure she looked pretty and delicate n the saddle, was for marriage one of these days. But girls were reared for marriage, it was the only suitable thing a woman could do with herself, as her mother always said. If anyone would want to marry you with a tongue like that, she would also add, usually with a smile because God knew she inherited all of those less than womanly qualities from her mother whereas from what she could remember her father was a gentle man. "She is always displeased," huffed the girl, shaking her head. It was inconsequential. Her mother would always be annoyed at something, it was how she was. Too bad Catherine seemed to be inheriting that, too. But when he brought up whipping, her blue eyes got big. "Why would he do that? Because I do not want to ride? You...you're not a little boy to be whipped." Even if the words didn't have the desired effect she looked a little upset at the prospect that he would be whipped like a misbehaving child, something Catherine never was, even when she was well and truly naughty. Despite her mother's constant interference, she was being raised to know her place but also show she had a mind of her own. Contrary to the last. Biting her lower lip, glancing from the small horse to the young man, Catherine was still very unsure of all of this. His pout made her want to laugh. "If I fall off or if she hurts me," she said cautiously, "it is all your fault and I will whip you." She was determined enough to do it, not as if she really would, but she at least tentatively agreed to get herself on the horse so he wouldn't be whipped by his grandfather. What a mean old man, she thought. Taking a few slow steps towards the horse, Catherine hesitated, unsure if she needed the help or not. She was tall for her age, and decided to just get it over with, help or no help, so she just said, "A lift, I don't need your help much," going right back to being an arrogant little baroness instead of acquiescing to the whole situation out of guilt. |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Mar 22 2011, 12:06 AM Post #11 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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She was a feisty little girl, and William was uncertain what to make of it. Most young girls were not much like that. Well...aside from that infernal Francesca in Italy. Bastard daughter of a cardinal indeed! A walking sin with all the evils to match. Perhaps that was hyperbole, but that was his only experience with unruly young girls. If it were not for the success of this 'lesson' dictating the course of the rest of the day with his grandfather, he might have said something to her about her rudeness. He was used to being belittled by his grandfather, that was his right, but he was not used to it from children. "Mon petite Mademoiselle," he said, rather sweetly, but with a bit of test and mischief in his blue eyes, "I do not think you stupid. I do not even know you to make that judgment. I just think you a little unruly and disobedient, but my grandfather obviously thinks me the selfsame thing." Of course a young girl would not think a man would ever pay her notice. She had yet to develop full curves and breasts. Of course she would think that, but William knew it was only a matter of time. Besides? A rich heiress? She would garner attention. She could be homely and garner attention. Most men viewed a woman as a passive receptacle of seed by which to have heirs. Her looks next to money were rather inconsequential. "Any gentleman must be versed in riding. Most of the occupations of a gentleman involve riding: war, hunting, hawking...If you seek a man who does not like horses, you seek not a man or man of breeding at all, and I hardly think that fitting for a proper, pretty baroness." Her protestations were his duty to overcome, so despite her words he was dedicated to that end. As she spoke of him not being a 'little boy to be whipped', William let out a snort of a mixture of anger and amusement, but most of the amusement was feigned. He did not want to frighten her and this certainly was not about his problems. William could not help that his eyes flickered down for a moment. That he was mostly pushed down into the dirt by his grandfather was fairly obvious. "Not being little just means I cannot be grabbed and turned over someone's knee," he commented, a slow blink covering his eyes as he licked his lips. "I am not married, nor of age of majority, nor with my own arms, nor of my own offices or property or money. I live by his graces under his auspices, and if I cross him, he will cast me off. I am his property, his heir, he does what he wishes with me." The youth did not know what to say to the girl. If she was that frightened and opposed, which is what he supposed it was, he would gladly bear his grandfather's temper. He was going to get a measure of it regardless and tomorrow his grandfather was not going to care for him any more if this lesson went extravagantly well. This moment would change nothing for Dorchester, a fact he had seen well illustrated. He was about to inform her that he would be beaten anyway when she spoke again, saying that she would whip him if anything happened. Letting out a bit of a snigger, he nodded solemnly. The pout he had put on disappeared. She bit her lower lip with such seriousness! "If any misfortune befalls you, I will hand you my riding crop to whip me with myself," he said, showing just how confident he was that she would be safe. He eyed her hesitant steps forward. She was definitely afraid. Perhaps she was hiding fear behind the bad behaviour, as he had previously supposed. "Oh of course you do not need much of my help, but it would not be seemly for a lady to over-exert herself," he said, giving her a nod and a wink. Gently he lifted her a bit so that she could 'do it herself'. This was simple for him. He took a step back and looked at her in the saddle before he started adjusting the stirrups to fit her height for the proper leg position. The little mare stood there patiently, hardly seeming to much mind or much notice the girl on her back. "The secret to riding, is to not let the horse know you are smaller than he is, and you will most easily be its master, but first you must have confidence and fundamentals. The direction you point a horse's head with the reins will basically be the direction that his body will follow. They also move away from pressure, so pushing your left leg on your horse moves them to the right. Left leg and right rein, moves right. Your leg and heel on their side signals faster, so a calm leg means a calm horse. If you wish to slow down, you pull back on the reins until the desired effect, but you musn't squeeze with your legs or grab hold with them at the same time." That was the basics of riding. The bare basics. It was what he told everyone before even speaking of positioning with the body. "You should sit straight and not tense your arms or stomach. Allow your heel to push down and your toe up, it settles your weight in your saddle so that you stay put. I know you wish to stay put." He sent her a grin and then gave her a nod, "Give her a gentle squeeze, and she will walk off, and we will practice." |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Mar 22 2011, 12:48 AM Post #12 |
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vérité sans peur
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When he said she was rude and disobedient, the girl couldn't help but give him a beaming smile as she said, "That is what my lady mother says of me too!" Catherine sounded entirely too proud of that. She was just happy she was not a boring girl who stood there and took every order thrown at her. Of course, she did that most of the time, but not today when she was anxious and scared, so she was acting a little worse than usual. A little worse than the usual mild sauciness she liked to throw out. Too bad it was poor Dorchester who had to deal with it, considering he couldn't smack her cheek as her mother surely would. "And if we are the same, then, maybe we can be friends." Fighting him hadn't been a good idea, had it? Especially now that she felt a little bad for him. Her little nose wrinkled in distaste as he spoke of his grandfather. Poor man, beaten like a boy when he didn't deserve it. Because she had been naughty, would William be beaten for that, too? She didn't want to think about it, and it was why she decided she would try to be better because if she was the cause of him getting whipped, then that was a very bad thing. Only she could if he upset her. Not her grandfather, for really, he was being so nice to her. Chirping cheerfully, more like a happy girl than the sulky, saucy one, Catherine told him, "I have lots of houses, I can give you one, we don't need it! It would make my lady mother very angry!" She sounded entirely too excited about making her mother angry, but any little thing could do it, just as any little thing could set off her daughter, too. If he needed his own house, why, she could provide. It would be like being a nice benefactor, someone she had heard of who gave away things they didn't need to those who had earned it or deserved it. "If you would like a house in Lincolnshire. I am the baroness, I can give you a house," she confirmed with a firm nod, as if she were taking her offer seriously. Who knows, maybe she was. Now that she was on the horse, the girl was afraid again. It was clear enough in her face, how she looked at him desperately. For a moment, just a moment, she wanted him to get up with her to reassure her she wouldn't die some horrific death by a horse, but he didn't. She needed to be strong. She was a lady! Daughter of a noble house! Catherine needed to be the lady her mother wanted her to be, at least on this horse, but it was very hard indeed trying to stay still when you felt like you were going to fall off between all the fabric of your gown and your own fear. "I didn't need your help to get on," she said pertly, then finished, her voice a little softer, "but I think I might need your help now..." That's what he was here for, right? To teach her? It was all too much. As he talked and talked poor Catherine's face looked more and more confused. She tried to take in all his advice, so unsteady on the horse as she was already, gripping the reins in a deathly tight hold, afraid to fall off or get reared on and fall off or something else entirely. She tried to follow his words, grasp the instructions, but all of it at once overwhelmed her little mind. Her teeth peeped out as she bit the corner of her lower lip, squinting at him carefully, a very serious face as she tried to take in what he was saying. She did as she was told, directing the mare's head, letting out a tiny squeak of shock as the creature began plodding along. "I don't want to fall off," she said, trying to sound so serious, but instead she knew she was wailing like a stupid scared girl and she hated it. "She's a good horse, right? She won't let me fall off?" She sent William a pointed look, blue eyes scared. "You won't let me fall off?" |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Mar 22 2011, 10:55 AM Post #13 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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Dorchester let out a bit of stifled chuckling so as to not draw attention to them when the girl proudly pronounced that was what her mother thought. He well knew that if his grandfather thought he was 'having fun' when he was supposed to be seeing to his tutoring duties, he would get an earful. Again, it likely would not be fun after that either, because he had definitely been told to keep his tongue to the riding instruction. "We can most assuredly be friends," he said with a sly smile. He was happy that she seemed to be growing more comfortable with him, and his play for pity had rather worked. He did not particularly wish for pity at all, but he was not afraid to use it to get this moving. Her little nose wrinkled up cutely, but he was afraid for her to chirp about giving him a house, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. For a split-second he was lost at whether to laugh like a hyena or just play along. He reined in his amusement for the most part, aside from the ways his eyes widened and the corners crinkled as his lips curved up. "You are very gracious, and seemingly very set on making your lady mother angry," he said, his voice clearly holding back soft chuckles. He really could not resist playing right into it, because his mind had already devised far too many witty remarks to possibly keep to himself. Yes, such a thing was often how he got himself into trouble. "A house in Lincolnshire? Well you do know that if you wish to give me a house, you would have to be my wife?" he quipped back. "What else would I be for such a thing...I mean, my grandfather would surely disown me if I just accepted such a thing, and then I truly would be no better than a stable-boy. What could I then do, play tutor to your unruly and disobedient children as a profession? I fear, Baroness, that is no kindness!" He was really having problems holding in his chuckling which was really threatening to turn into burst of laughter. He tried to talk, and he got it out, but just barely, "Baroness, usually it is the men who arrange the marriages, you are very ambitious...I could hardly accept just a house, I would lose my inheritance and many large houses in order to play master to your children just to get away from my aging grandfather! Somehow I think waiting for my inheritance and enduring this pain will be far, far less painful in the long-run than your alternative!" Somehow the thought of years of being stuck with children of hers and with her (given her mother's disposition) was far more of a punishment than getting beaten by his grandfather until the man would finally die. He put her on the horse, and he could instantly tell how very frightened she was by her posture. She had a death grip on the reins, and he felt a bit badly for the nice, little mare. Her voice even held her apprehension in it very thick. "I could hardly let a potential wife who would give me lots of houses fall off and die before the matter is all settled, could I?" he asked, cheekily, before he smiled and nodded at her with more seriousness. "She is a very good horse, and on my honor, I will grab you off before it comes to something such as that." Not very much could happen when walking around on a very well-trained and sedate mare. "Now do not pull back too much on your reins. You would not like it if I grabbed hold of you tightly if I could take hold of you lightly, and horses are no different." Dorchester walked along with her, keeping his arm out as if to illustrate that he could pull her off if anything went wrong. He pushed some hair off his brow as the wind blew gently, feeling the heat of the sun in his black leather jerkin. |
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6:26 AM Jul 11