26th June, A fat ox with evil will

"At this rate, it looks as though he'd prefer to teach it to dance a jig than eat it whole," Vickery said, and quirked an eyebrow. "It would be interesting to see him do either of those things. I wonder how the ox would take to learning country dances?"

"Well, he's not bad looking for his species, rather the tall, strong and silent type, highbred and can't be worse at dancing then some other males who have less claim to the former - he would be a welcome addition to every ball."

Edward's hand strayed to his pocket, and he pulled out his sketchbook without even realizing it. The picture of a polite ox in frock-coat making his bows to some Grand Dame crystalized in his mind and wanted to be put down on paper.

"He certainly couldn't be any worse to dance with than a cart-horse," Vickery replied, amused. "My sister insists that the younger son of Lord Chalfont dances exactly as she imagines a cart-horse would; clumsily, heavily and most inelegantly treads all over her feet."

Torrington had pulled his sketch-book and pencil out and was drawing something now. Vickery could guess what, and his smile broadened.

Edward stopped and frowned for a moment until he had located who Lord Chalfont was and that to the best of his knowlegde he had never met said son. The he added to the background a rather pimply youth with horse-like features and dandyish aspirations, who indeed had his feet more on those of the simpering young lady he was dancing with than on the floor. The young lady was casting doe's eyes at the ox, who had by now aquired an ADC's smart uniform and a set of military decorations.

While quickly adding line after line to the paper, Edward replied jokingly:

"Well, it seems your sister is doing those poor cart-horses an injustice - they only very seldom tread on one's toes."

"Well, it isn't as though she has much experience of horses apart from the one she rides, of course," Vickery replied. "Admittedly, I have never seen a cart-horse dance a cotillion or something, and they are big enough that they probably would stand on one's foot during a set. Or bump into everyone else and generally send the assembly into an uproar."

"Very likely ... perhaps one should invite a few of the guards' chargers for that. They do so beautifully on parade, their dancing would certainly benefit from such drill of synchronized movements."

He shook his head, wondering when his own conversation had become so silly. With a clearing of his throat, he tried to get back on firmer ground.

"Have you ever been in Vienna? The horses performing in the Winter Riding School there really are dancing."

Vickery shook his head regretfully. "No, I have not travelled so far. I had a very short Grand Tour during the Peace, which meant I only got to see Hannover and part of Germany - my father would not hear of my having a full Grand Tour, being a military man. My mother thought he was being over-cautious but was glad enough of it in the end." He smiled. "I should like to visit Vienna one day - that must be an arresting sight."

Edward sadly smiled, remembering his own brief visit on the way back from Italy. They hadn't seen much of the city apart from St. Stephan's cathedrale and one or two of the most prominent streets in the short time he and his brother had been there - it had been only an one-day stop, and he had managed to talk his brother into accompanying him to see the newly build Wiener Neustadt Canal, which had taken up most of their time.

But they had heared about the dressage performances and had taken the time (and all the benefits of their rank) to procure an invitation.

"My brother had always planned to go back and aquire one of those horses", he said, not quite in reply to Vickery's comment. His brother never had had that chance. Just over a year later, he had been dead.

'Had'. Ah. Vickery glanced across at Torrington. "Then you shall have to buy one instead, after this war is over," he said, vaguely hoping that Robert would not manage to get himself killed while Vickery was in the Army; the brothers were not particularly close but if his mother was trying to arrange his marriage now, he could only imagine how infuriating she would be were he to suddenly become the heir.

"Maybe you and I could go together to see them," he added, trying to steer his thoughts away from his dragon of a mother and onto happier topics.

Edward had been so caught up in his memories that he hadn't noticed that Vickery's thoughts hadn't been exactly happy either, but even in this state his upbringing forced him to react to being addressed directly. So he looked up again, and as soon as he had taken in what Vickery had suggested, nodded. A small smile, half delighted and half grateful, played over his lips.

"It would be my pleasure!"

A loud, content snort drew his attention back to their current problem and looked over at the ox again.

"He seems much calmer now. Perhaps we really should leave now, before we disturb or irritate him again?"

"Yes, I concur," the Rifles officers said, and glanced over at Maggie. "Should you like a hand down?" he asked, courteously. "I think it would be best if we left the field to the ox and stopped being a distraction. It will make it easier for your husband to persuade him to rejoin his fellows, I think."

"Thank you, sir," Maggie said in a low voice. Now did seem the best moment to make their escape. She took Vickery's offered hand and hopped down, giving the beast a wary frown. She would never have allowed any ox of hers to behave so badly.