The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth CenturyHeyer, Georgette
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The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century
Heyer, Georgette
Aristocracy (Social class) -- England -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Regency fiction
When day came he was patrolling the west side of Sussex, beyond
Midhurst, not because he thought it a profitable part, but because he
knew and loved the country. One late afternoon towards the end of the
month he rode gaily into one of the small villages that nestle amongst
the Downs, and made his way down the quaint main street to the George
Inn, where he drew rein and dismounted. At his call an aged ostler
hobbled out of a side door, chewing an inevitable straw, and after
eyeing the newcomer and his steed for an appreciable length of time,
evidently decided that they were worthy of his attention, for he came
forward, remarking that it had been a pleasant day.
Carstares agreed with him, and volunteered the information that it would
be another fine day to-morrow, if the sunset were to be trusted. To this
the ostler replied that he, for one, never trusted to no red sunsets,
and added darkly that there warn't nothing so deceitful to his manner o'
thinking. He'd known it be such a red sunset as never was, and yet be
a-pouring with rain all next day.... Should he take the mare?
Carstares shook his head.
"No, I thank you. I remain here but a few moments. I doubt she's thirsty
though--eh, Jenny?"
"Water, sir?"
"For her, yes. For myself I fancy a tankard of your home-brewed ale.
Stand, Jenny!" He turned away and walked up the steps to the inn door.
"Be you a-going to leave her there, sir--a-standing all by herself?"
inquired the man, surprised.
"Why, yes! She's docile enough."
"Well! Seems to me a risky thing to leave a hoss--and a skittish hoss at
that--a-standing loose in the road. Ye won't be tying her to a post,
master?"
Carstares leaned his arms on the balustrade and looked down at them.
"I will not. She'd be very hurt at such treatment, wouldn't you, lass?"
Jenny tossed her head playfully, as if in agreement, and the ostler
scratched his head, looking from her to my lord:
"A'most seems as if she understands what you be a-saying to her, sir!"
"Of course she understands! Don't I tell you 'tis a clever little lady?
If I call her now she'll come up these steps to me, and not all the
ostlers in Christendom could stop her."
"Don't'ee go for to do it, sir!" urged the old man, backing. "She must
be uncommon fond o' ye?"
"She'd be a deal fonder of you if you'd fetch her a drink," hinted Jack
broadly.
"Ay, sir! I be a-going this werry instant!" And with many an anxious
glance over his shoulder at the perfectly quiet mare, he disappeared
through an open doorway into the yard.
When Carstares, tankard of ale in hand, emerged from the inn and sat
himself down on one of the benches that stood against the wall, the
mare was drinking thirstily from a bucket which the ancient one held for
her.
"'Tis a wunnerful fine mare, sir," he remarked at length, after a
careful inspection of her points.
Carstares nodded pleasantly, and surveyed Jenny through half-shut eyes.
"I think so every time I look at her," he said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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