3rd Oct. 1814: A little London season

Bella once again tilted her head, an oddly endearing habit she had when she was thinking.

"Do you think so? You know him, of course ... but he would have to cope with her mother as well! And if he likes gentle people ...?"

She watched Lady Helen keenly. Starting a test baloon, she stated:

"Of course he likes my brother, and Edward is the best and kindest brother one could have ..."

"I am sure he is, Lady Isabella. Certainly, judging by the letters, now that I put my mind to it, Sir George always spoke of him in the warmest tones. They must indeed have forged a strong bond." Helen appeared thoughtful. "But a man's kindness is not the same as a woman's gentleness, is it?"

Having lost sight of the familiar figure Willoughby chose to explore the park a little more. His horse had wanted to graze of course, lowering his head several times and being stopped from causing havoc amongst the flowers each time. With a light press against the sides the animal responded and a healthy trot was started again, with the rider trying to see whether a familiar face could be found amongst the many merry, and less merry figures, male or female and sometimes a child as well.

There were many pretty ladies to be seen, strutting about in their finery, fanning themselves with delicate fans or keeping shade with little umbrellas that were as much for show as they were for use. He had passed several by now, but other than a passing greeting, when protocol demanded it, he had not stopped by any. He heard the sound of hooves and turned in the direction, wondering who was racing again, but thinking it could as well be the young upstarts that wanted to impress their ladies to be.

Bella considered that dispassionately.

"Yes ... it is. But he is also very gentle sometimes. And surely somebody enjoying a gentle companion would know how to draw these qualities out in a persone?"

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Edward was holding Trueno in - Bromwell was not up to gracefully perform at more than a quite sedate gallop. The younger man however did not seem to know that and urged his horse to a wild and not enirely controlled gallop down Rotten Row.

"Hey, watch it! Watch where you're going!" Willoughby had seen the horse coming towards them, and had to kick his horse out of the way or risk being trampled by the beast. He turned around to see who the man bent on endangering all about him was to tell him off sooner than he might actually injure a lady, child or both!

"Oh!" Emma barely had time to rein Shilling out of the way as someone thundered past her in a mad gallop. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to catch her breath, and looked over at her brother. "Really, John, is London become so savage since the end of the war?"

Edward, realizing that by now the horse had taken over management of the affair and decided to be no longer seen in public with so disgraceful a rider, set Trueno after them, hoping to catch the reins.

His mind on how to cut off Bromwell's horse from running into an assembly of children watcing the horses with their nannies, and on steering a safe course through all the other riders himself, it did not register the familiar faces when he swept past them with a contrite 'Pardon, madam, sir! Beg pardon, Sir!', and a very abbreviated touch to his hat.

Helen smiled. "Well, I think it is best to wait until you've met him and then you can give me your opinion of his character."

"Helen!" exclaimed somebody behind them and she turned around with a frown, which swiftly turned into a surprised expression. "Henry, what are you doing shouting my name for all the Park to hear? And what are you doing here? I thought you were not back for another week."

Henry shook his head. "I hoped you'd be more pleased to see me. Well, Sir George finished his business earlier than expected. I came home to see you and mama this morning and she informed me you out riding, so here I am."

At this point Helen remembered to introduce her brother to Bella. The only similarities there were between Helen and her brother were their colouring and the shape of their face. Henry looked at least ten years older than Helen and his facial features looked oddly scrunched up.

"Torrington?" Vickery said, as a second rider passed them, riding a familiar black horse. He was also going at some speed, and was obviously intent on stopping the first rider. "Please excuse me, Emma," he said, and turned Brandy to follow - if he and Torrington could come up on either side of the runaway horse they could persuade it to slow, hopefully without anyone getting hurt, or the rider being thrown.

Bella answered the introductions prettily and with a decided twinkle in her eyes, and gave Henry her hand.

"How nice to finally meet Lady Helen's brother! Will you be staying in town longer?"

Behind her, some shouts and commotion was heard in the distance, but she was too well-bred to turn her back to a new aquintance.

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The chase ended rather quickly and without much need or opportunity for heroics. Bromwell's horse, not liking the two horses closing in on him, and taking instant exception to a troop of household cavalry, who alerted by the screams of the children, came from the opposite direction, broke out towards the Serpentine, lost his footing on the bank, and subsequently his rider, and gave the children the gratification of seeing both himself and his rider tumbling into the water and splashing about.

Willoughby rode towards the source of the commotion. He saw the horse take a tumble in the water, and had his own speed towards them. Avoiding the children, the few ladies and possibly the two riders who had tried to halt and slow the crazed rider, he turned towards the bank and the horse which he hoped to take hold of, should the animal think to bolt again.

That was some reckless riding! Good thing nobody had been hurt.

"Well." Vickery slowed Brandy to a walk, before reining in to look down on the soaked rider. He dismounted, mindful of the hooves of the thrashing horse, in case his assistance should be further required. "Are you hurt, sir?"

Edward, who had been briefly held up by a trooper send out to inquire, now drew to a hold on Vickery's side, well away from the crumpling bank of the lake.

He looked slightly surprised when he recognized the other man, and even more when he saw the other rider who had come to the side of the accident, but he only spared a quick smile, and a delighted "Vickery! Gwydyr! What a surprise!" before turning to the very disgruntled Mr. Bromwell, who had picked himself up slowly and waded to the shore, his morning finery reduced to a bedraggled, muddy mess.

The engineer's polite question whether the other man was hurt was answered with an unintelligible, but not very polite-sounding murmur before the recollection that several dignified persons (and a number of less dignified ones like nursemaids who would have nothing better to do than to make known this incident to everyone, describing his behaviour in minute detail - Mr. Bromwell was a young man of vast self-assurance and did naturally assume that everybody knew his name) forced him to return with forced politeness that he was indeed unhurt, but would be very obliged to my lord if he would make his excuses to his sister.

----

The young trooper meanwhile approached Willoughby respectfully, informing him that he had been sent to render all assistance necessary, but eyeing the horse (who had difficulties coming to his feet again on the slick ground and with the reins tangled around one foreleg and some reeds, and was thrashing about) warily.

Willoughbly only barely aknowledged Torrington, already making an assessment of the injuries the horse sustained. That fool should have been more careful with the animal. The poor thing. He nodded to the young trooper. Someone sensible at last.

"I believe he has not broken a leg...fortunately.. nor tore muscle." He had gone to see the horse from up closer, having gotten off of his horse to do so. He seemed not to mind the mud quite that much and remained well away from the animal's hooves.

"Easy." He murmured as he knelt by the animal's head, petting his neck and forehead soothingly. "Easy now. Calm down. "Trooper...." He hesitated looking up at the lad. "We'll need to have his reins disentangled first. He'll yet break his leg, if he should try standing with them there..." His voice was soothing though, for the sake of the animal.

"Fraser, Sir."

The young man slowly approached, not to startle the spooked horse even more. The white in the animals eyes showed and it neighed, but it made no attempt to bite or lash out at Willoughby or Fraser specifically.

The trooper pulled a knife from his boot.

"If I cut the reins, Sir, can you steady him on your side?"

"Yes." Willoughby answered, still trying to soothe the animal and calm it down enough that it would be possible to push it back to his feet without injuring either of the two. "

"If he starts pulling, or panicking, move away as fast as you can." He added curtly. He checked that the saddle was not caught on anything and would not, yank the horse down, when it tried to get up again. "Just a little longer." He spoke gently to the horse.

The trooper, feeling that that sentence should have come from him perhaps, since he was the acknowledged professional, but who also had the strong impression that Willoughby's voice was not unused to the tone in which military commands were usually given, took a firm hold on the reins, then began to cut the reins. It was hard work, for the leather had begun to soak and was resisting, and the nervous movements of the horse's legs were not helping either, but finally the rein parted, and the horse, feeling the freedom restored to his leg, made a renewed effort to get his legs under him and get up.

Willoughby pushed against the horse's side at the same time, giving him the additional momentum, so that if the roll was just right, the animal could pick itself up and stand, albeit muddy - just as his rescuers - back on his four feet.

"Up with you." He had not had time to introduce himself properly, but the trooper had been none the better. Trooper Fraser, was cutting it very short.

At the moment, Trooper Fraser had taken the ends of the reins and was pulling, helping the scrambling horse up and forward onto safer ground. As they were still in the water for the most part of this procedure, the resultant splashing and the damage his nice uniform took nearly made them even more popular with the kids than Bromwell's inital fall, especially when the horse began to shake himself the moment it was standing securely again.

Silently heaping curses on the moron who had not only spooked a perfectly good, if somewhat showy horse, but also now had made it necessary to submit his uniform to a thorough cleaning before it was fit to be seen by his captain again, he shortened the reins and murmured soothingly to the horse to prevent any attempts to bolt once the animal had his breath back.

And the cavalryman and Willoughby - what was he doing here? - had managed to get the horse out of the water, though the cavalry trooper had a dismayed look on his face when he realised what state his uniform was in.

Vickery recognised that look, and stepped across. He could do something about that - or at least attempt to, anyway.

He fumbled for his notebook - he had grown used to having a notebook and pencil with him during his service in the Peninsula - and wrote a note, before folding it and holding it out for the trooper to take.

"This may help mollify your sergeant and troop officer," he said. "It was very well done."

To whom it may concern,
Please do not be alarmed by the state of Trpr Fraser's uniform, he has performed a sterling service in helping rescue a valuable horse from drowning in the Serpentine. For any further particulars, please apply to Maj. Vickery, Saltash House, Portman Sq.

Willoughby shadowed the trooper and his horse until he was certain that the animal would no longer attempt to flee and that it had calmed enough that he could leave it in his hands. Then he returned to his mare. The animal looked at him with the expression that could almost have gone for dismay that he may mount her again. He was wet and he was in part covered in mud as well. After a few long moments of thought the mare leaned to sniff at the water, debating how clean it really was. She shook her head and extended her neck so that her nose touched Willoughby's shoulder.

She was given a few gentle strokes over the front of her head before her keeper took her reins in hand again. "...Nothing broken. " He said, with relief. "Just slightly shaken. But he'll be alright." Of course he was not talking about the rider, but the horse.

Fraser looked at the paper gratefully, decidedly cheerful after the compliment, and saluted, sharing the mark of respect equally between all three men.

"Thank you, Sir. Sirs. If you don't need me anymore, I should return to my duties."

Torrington achnowledged the salute and looked at his two friends; did they need him for anything more? Personally, as helpful as the young man had been, he would prefer him gone so that he could properly greet and talk to his friends. But he had an inkling that there were still some things to clear up ...
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Bromwell by now had disappeared from sight, probably traing to slink back to his lodgings without being seen. His treacherous horse he had abandoned without a second thought - probably in the believe that the owner of the stables he had rented it from would go and catch it if he really wanted it back.

Vickery returned the salute, and shook his head, no, at Torrington's questioning look. He did not need the trooper for anything more, after all.

He turned as Emma came up on Shilling, reining the horse in at a polite distance from the group by the lake. He smiled at her before turning back to Torrington.

"I presume that, as the young gentleman has abandoned his horse, it was hired from a local stable?" he said, addressing the group at large. "Does anybody know which?"

"Good afternoon, Vickery, Torrington." He He glanced at the lady that was not too far away from them and inclined his head in greeting before turning to the horse. "I believe I know which of the stables he belongs to. I will inquire to be sure." He studied the saddle and the shabraque, since he had doubted the man was able to bring his own kit to the stables. "The rider shall need to pay for the damage done to his reins." He indicated the cut leather.

Although it was not he who cut it, he should have been glad that they did just that and the animal did not break a leg. That instead would have really cost him.

"Willoughby." He was not quite sure at how he felt to be addressed by surname only, by someone who had enlisted once as a private soldier, even of a cavalry regiment. Here and now, however, was not the place to take exception to it.

"I think that would be appreciated - the stables should have a record of who their customer was and will be able to bill him accordingly."