Free Jennie Kissed Me by Joan Smith

After that I ignored the incident as if it had never happened. We left the green very soon, and as we went for the carriage I said, “It is such a fine day, we should give you a driving lesson this afternoon, Lady Victoria. Does your father have anything suitable?”
    A smile of surprise greeted this suggestion. “His curricle is at home. He won’t want us to use his grays, but we can use the older pair of bays. He took his better team to London.”
    “Do you think he would object to my teaching you?”
    “Oh, no! He has been promising to teach me himself forever, but he is so busy, you know. Are you a good fiddler, Miss Robsjohn?”
    “I was fair to middling in my day. It will take me an hour to refresh my skills.”
    “We’ll have lunch early. Papa says the best road for me to learn on would be the road to Willigan’s farm. There is very little traffic there except for an occasional haywain or dung cart or old Ned Willigan’s jig.”
    The trip home was livelier and better-natured than the trip to the village, despite her loss of meeting with Desmond. I decided it was sheer boredom that led her into such unsuitable companions as the Simons. I must keep her occupied, and we would get on fine.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Marndale’s sporting carriage and second-best team of bays awaited us at the front door after lunch. His second-best team were still a friskier-looking pair than I had ever driven before. Their coats gleamed like polished mahogany in the sunlight, highlighting the swell of powerful chests and lean, long legs. With my heart pulsing in my throat, I went out to try my skill with them. If I failed, I would lose the vestige of respect I had gained from Lady Victoria. Mrs. Irvine came to the door to see us off with the plan of spending a quiet afternoon looking over the house after we left.
    Though powerful and full of life, the pair were sweet goers with silk mouths. They responded to the lightest touch. I knew before I reached the main road that I had not lost my skill. How exhilarating it was to canter along with the sun beating on my shoulders and a smoothly-moving rig beneath me. I began figuring what corners I would have to cut to buy such a carriage for myself. It could only be done if I omitted the London holiday. There was a  moment of panic when a coach and four were spotted in the distance galloping toward us at breakneck speed. As they drew nearer the coach got wider and wider till I feared I would have to go in the ditch to avoid a crash. But I pulled as far as I could to my side, the coach driver pulled to his, and we squeaked past without incident.
    “Well done, Miss Robsjohn!” Lady Victoria exclaimed. “Just like Lettie Lade.”
    “Who is Lettie Lade?”
    “Haven’t you heard of her? She is all the crack in London. Sir John Lade’s wife—she is a famous whip, though not very good ton, Papa says. Too fast by half.” I saw I could learn a few things from Lady Victoria if I kept my ears open. I was entirely ignorant of the social on dits of London. “When can I try?” she asked soon.
    “As soon as we reach Willigan’s road. Where do I turn off?”
    “Just at that big elm tree by the corner. Turn right.”
    The turn was executed without incident. I had managed two miles without disgracing myself, but my arms were fatigued from tension, and I was happy to turn the reins over to my charge. I showed her the proper way to arrange the leathers between her fingers to allow free and equal pressure on all reins.
    “They are easy goers. Don’t yank on the reins to stop them but just pull gently.”
    “Papa already told me that much. Giddap.” She gave them their head, and we were off at a stately trot.
    Being young and full of confidence she was eager to see them canter, but I held her down to a trot on the first lesson. For an hour we drove up and down Willigan’s road. The lesson was enlivened by a meeting with two jigs and a farm cart, both of which she passed