There was money in her bag to take to Jonas today. Actual money.
If there was a downside, it was not being able to ride Rhiannon or stay with Jonas and look up at the stars. Well, that and having to deal with the way her insides tumbled over each other every time she saw Mr. Whitworth. Or sometimes when she didn’t see him. Or when she saw him and then he left.
Yesterday she’d gone on another brush run, though this time she’d been added to the back of the line for another stable Mr. Barley worked with. Every movement she’d made had been scrutinized, and she’d bitten her cheek until it felt bruised and tender to keep from speaking the entire time.
Then she’d had to do another set of starting trials in the afternoon because she was to have today off. She’d told Jonas they would get to spend the whole day together, but he insisted she attend church first. It was important that people see her, that she not arouse suspicion.
Life was a delicate balance right now, and it wouldn’t take much for it to come tumbling down.
She lay looking up at the ceiling, having woken even earlier than usual. In an hour or two, she would rise, dress in her one good dress, and go to church. She wasn’t expecting much of the service, but Jonas was rarely wrong with his advice.
He seemed better already. It hadn’t even been a full week yet and the rest was doing wonders for him. He could even sit for short periods, using a pile of leaves and grass as padding. She had to keep this job, this room, and the food that went with it so she could provide him more time.
It would be best if she could find her way back to sleep. Even though she wouldn’t ride today, there was a lot of walking in front of her. The thin leather of her boots was paying the price for walking the miles to and from Jonas’s cottage every day.
With a sigh, Sophia closed her eyes and willed her body to relax. In her mind, she rode Rhiannon and counted the jumps as they charged through the fields of Ireland. When she reached triple digits, she gave up and returned to staring at the ceiling. Ireland wasn’t big enough to get her to sleep, apparently.
If only it had been big enough to provide her a home.
Fifteen
She managed to doze until the movement of the waking maids signaled it was time for her to rise as well.
She reached for her riding dress before remembering it was Sunday. Just shifting the fabric of her practice gown sent a stench into the air. Frowning, she held it up to her nose. One inhale almost sent her cross-eyed. She’d have to ask someone where the washroom was.
And if she was allowed to use it.
At least she had another dress—a proper dress—for church this morning. She washed as best she could with the basin of water and dressed. Then she bent to press her face beneath her arm and sniffed. There were certainly times she’d smelled better, but at least people would be able to sit next to her during the service.
As for tomorrow, when she’d have to put that practice gown on again, well, she would just have to hope that the odor of the horses disguised the residual smell of her clothing.
At the cottage, Jonas was still sleeping, stretched out on the pallet he’d made from grass and a blanket. He seemed to be getting his best sleep in months, thanks to the lack of excruciating pain.
She gently set her bag on the table, noting the surface had obtained several more carvings. At least Jonas had found something to entertain himself.
As much as she wanted to see his friendly face, she crept out again without waking him. They would have the entire afternoon together.
Sophia sat in the back of the church, sliding all the way down one of the narrow benches and trying to hide in the corner. Despite doing everything she could not to draw notice, it felt as if every eye in the building was upon her. Whatever was said, whatever was sung, she missed it all as she focused on preventing the encroaching numbness from overtaking her and making her a permanent fixture of the wooden bench.
The few times she managed to look up from her toes, there would inevitably be another set of eyes to meet, and no matter whose they were, they were not filled with the sort of admiration that would help her attain work after Mr. Whitworth let her go.
She could only hope and—she glanced at the altar behind the droning rector—perhaps pray that her race would change a few minds.
The moment the service finished, she retreated to Jonas’s cottage, taking a long, circuitous route to ensure no one followed her. Her presence was already somewhat incendiary. Discovery of her secret brother might get her run out of town.
At the cottage, she found Rhiannon munching on a pile of grass and hay scraps while Jonas lay across the horse’s back on his stomach, methodically braiding the long, silky mane into an intricate design.
“Interesting way to pass the time,” Sophia said with a giggle.
Jonas grinned back. “It’s not as if you can bring me a book with my next meal.” He nodded to the neat stack of dishes on the table. “That’s as close as I’d like to come to stealing, thank you.”
Guilt stabbed Sophia. She, at least, got to be out and about riding during the day. “Did you see the money? I can take a portion. Buy you a book.” She looked around at the cottage in the full sunlight, noticing Jonas had practiced engraving on most of the non-rotten surfaces. “Maybe a notebook and a pencil?”
“No.” Jonas rolled off the back of the horse and landed on his feet. “We’ll need that money later.” He shoved the long, thin fingers of one hand through his red hair, leaving a dirty streak through the middle.
“It must be hard, being here,” Sophia said softly.
“I don’t know.” Jonas shrugged. “I get to spend my days hiding a horse, finding ways to feed a horse, cleaning up after a horse.”
“Giving the horse a new look.” Sophia stepped forward and ran a hand over the intricately twisted braids.
His returning grin was weak and then it faded entirely. “What I hate is you being out there without me.”
Despite being the younger twin by a few minutes, Jonas had always looked out for Sophia. Even when they were children, he’d been the one to remind her it was time to go in and eat when she became too preoccupied with the horses. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Now it was her turn to care for him.
“You spend your days taking care of this beast, then?” Sophia ran a hand down the horse’s neck.
Jonas shrugged. “I sleep a lot too. I stand until I can’t anymore, then I lie down. Inevitably I fall asleep. Sometimes I wake up in the night and take her out and exercise her on the longe.” He sent a crooked grin her way. “I took her for a walk like a dog once. Let me know if you hear tales of a ghost horse roaming the fields.”
Given that no one talked to her about much of anything, she wasn’t likely to hear such rumors.
She lifted one hand to run along the horse’s back. As always, the soft hair and warm animal gave her a sense of calm. “I wish I could ride you, girl. We could prance through the Heath and show those racehorses a thing or two.”
“You’ll be on her again soon.” Jonas wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave a squeeze. “Remember to have patience.”
“You always had more than I did.”
“Good thing I’m the one stuck in a broken house with a horse, then, isn’t it?”