Free Twelfth Night Secrets by Jane Feather Page B

hall, on his way to the stables.

    “Have you come to see the new colt, sir?” a child’s voice piped from somewhere close to where he stood in the stable yard.
    “Yes, he’s out of Sultana by Atlas, and Judd says we can name him,” another voice declared. “Only unofficially, of course, because he has to have a proper stud name.”
    “Where are you two?” Julius demanded, looking around.
    “Here, of course.” Two strawberry-blond heads popped up from behind a rain butt. “We’re racing water beetles in a bucket.”
    “You’re doing what?” Mystified, he stepped behind the rain butt. “Oh, I see.”
    The twins had filled a large pail with water in which two water beetles were scudding across the scummysurface, encouraged by little flicks from a desiccated leaf.
    “That one’s mine,” Grace declared, pointing.
    “No, it’s not, that one’s mine,” her brother protested. “Mine was always the one on the left.”
    “No, it isn’t, they change sides all the time,” Grace stated. “I know mine because he’s got one leg shorter than the other.”
    “Don’t be silly, of course he hasn’t. Anyway, how do you know it’s a he? It could just as easily be a she,” Tom pointed out.
    “Let’s see, then.” Grace encouraged one of the creatures onto the leaf, then frowned in puzzlement. “Where do you look? They’re not like horses or dogs.” She looked up at Julius. “Where do you look, sir?”
    “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said. “Biology was never my strong suit. Let the poor thing go, now, and show me the colt.”
    The water beetle and its leaf were dropped into the water, and the two children hurtled off towards the stable block, calling for Judd, who appeared from the stables, hands thrust into the pockets of a baize apron. “Afternoon, m’lord.”
    “Good afternoon, Judd. Could you have my horse saddled, please?”
    “Yes, but you have to see the colt. Doesn’t he, Judd? He has to see the colt.” Grace pranced around Judd.
    “All in good time, Grace,” Julius said. “You may show me the colt while my horse is being saddled, if that’s all right with Judd.”
    “Oh, aye, sir, ’tis all right by me. Them imps’ll show you where he is. But you mind, now,” he said, addressing the children. “No shouting, and don’t you be gettin’ him agitated, or the mare. It’ll turn ’er milk.”
    “I’ll make sure they’re quiet,” Julius said with a quick smile at the groom, who gave a laconic nod before going to fetch the Earl’s horse. Julius followed the children into the gloom of the stable block. They led him in exaggerated silence, fingers pressed to lips, to the end of the row, where an elegant chestnut mare was nuzzling a leggy brown colt.
    “What should we call him, do you think?” Tom whispered loudly. “We thought Legs because he’s all legs, but Judd said he wouldn’t always be like that.”
    “I want to call him Star, because of that little white spot on his head,” Grace said in a fierce whisper. “Legs is a silly name.”
    “Star is boring,” her brother objected. “It’s ordinary.”
    “So is Legs.”
    The mare stirred restlessly, raising her long head to regard her visitors with a somewhat baleful stare. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Julius said firmly. “Come out, now, and leave them in peace.”
    The children followed him out into the yard, blinking in the weak sunlight. “Is that your horse? He’s so big.” Grace gazed up in awe at Julius’s raw-boned gray gelding.
    “When I’m grown, I’ll ride a horse that big,” Tom stated. “Nick’s Lucifer was that big.”
    “Lucifer was black,” Grace said. “When Nick died, he died.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but Julius could hear a quaver that aroused an unusually powerful emotion in his breast. He had never considered himself in the least sentimental. He couldn’t afford to be in his business. He had counted Nick as a friend, one whose death had been inevitable.