Keeping the Castle by Patrice Kindl

could, with Mama in pursuit. Fido, who was, as always, at my heels, began to bark and prance about the child, twisting in ridiculous, hysterical circles and adding to Alexander’s uproar.
    I sighed. I had known that these two would be distraught if excluded from our party, but could not see how to include them. I said, “Mama, if you could see to it that Prudence and Charity are up, and that they are ready on time, I will take Alexander out to the garden where we can throw the ball for Fido.” If I could exhaust their busy little bodies prior to our departure, it might make it easier to consign them both to Annie’s care.
    For at least an hour I played with them, running and throwing the ball until I felt that I, at least, would prefer to go back to my chamber and fall into an exhausted slumber rather than set out on an eight-mile ride over rough country. At the end of that time Mama appeared and signaled to me that we were nearly ready to depart. My companions shifted their shining eyes from my face to hers.
    “I—I am coming,” I gasped. I hurried indoors and donned my “new” riding habit. Fido and Alexander, showing no sign of fatigue, followed me out to the stable yard where the others had assembled.
    Lord Boring, the Marquis of Bumbershook and the inevitable Mr. Fredericks were present, already mounted, as were my mother and stepsisters. The latter two stared suspiciously at my habit, knowing my wardrobe every bit as well as I did.
    “Where did that come from?” Charity demanded.
    “What, this old thing?” I said, “Goodness, it’s been around forever.”
    “It’s red ,” said Prudence. “And that hat! It reminds me of a—”
    “Are we all ready? Althea, do come along now,” interrupted my mother. A tiny smile told me that she had guessed the origin of my new garb. Jock stood holding his pony and my Pegeen in readiness for me to mount. Annie was there to see us off and take charge of boy and dog. When Alexander spotted his friend Mr. Fredericks, however, his face lit up. “Freddicks!” he cried, and trotted towards him, his arms held up to be lifted. “I want to come!” he demanded.
    We gasped in dismay and Annie and I, the only adults present on foot who were not encumbered by horses, hurried towards him. Mr. Fredericks was mounted on a fine bay that danced with impatience to be gone, disliking the proximity of this small, unsteady human.
    Mr. Fredericks laid a hand on the horse’s neck. “Be still,” he said, and the animal quieted and stood immobile. Then he leaned over and casually snatched my brother up with one hand by the scruff of his jacket. “So you want to come too, do you?” Alexander nodded, giggling at being manhandled. “Then you shall,” said Mr. Fredericks.
    “Fredericks!” Lord Boring said.
    “Yes?”
    “ The boy’s mother has some say in the matter .”
    “Has she?” Mr. Fredericks considered this. “Well, perhaps she has. Is she—yes, there she is. Do you object, madam?”
    If he had said this in a superior or dismissive tone of voice, I believe I should have rushed at him without heed for his powerful horse and snatched Alexander from him. But he did not. He spoke in a tone of apparently genuine enquiry.
    “I—I hadn’t thought—but I suppose it would be all right—”
    “Fredericks,” growled the Marquis. “The lady is distressed.”
    “No . . . no,” my mother went on in a stronger voice, “Truly, Your Lordship, I would not object, if Mr. Fredericks keeps a tight hold of him, and does not . . . forget that the child is riding with him.”
    Mr. Fredericks’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He seemed offended. “Forget? Forget that my good friend Alexander has claimed my care and protection? Certainly not.”
    Oddly enough, for my mama was the most loving and careful mother in existence, this appeared to satisfy her. “Very well,” she said, “you shall come, Alexander. Mind you do not cause Mr. Fredericks a moment of annoyance.