For everyone on the Brandling Estate, the three months after their Newmarket triumph became the most chaotic, the most worrying, the most exciting, the most definitive months they would ever know.

After Trafalgar’s massive success as a three-year-old, Jack Wetherley, and chief ostler, Alf Winter, took the advice of the local vet, Victor Lazenby, not to risk their champion in the prestigious Epsom Derby.

Victor had indicated that the apparent discomfort Trafalgar experienced in his left front cannon, was not serious but, as he said, “If aggravated, he might never race again.  Give the beast a good rest. With light exercise. By God, from what I heard, he deserves it.”

“Oh, wonderful, I can be his nurse,” Becky had enthused after the initial disappointment, and she whispered to Jack, “More excuse to be close to you.”

As Sir Oswald’s orphaned niece, she should have had no part in the life of Jack, a mere commoner. But they had been lovers since her arrival on the Brandling Estate, a year earlier. Only Alf was party to their liaison and had helped ensure their secrecy.

But so many other events were destined to interfere with their privacy. In late May, just two weeks after Newmarket, and true to his word, Lord Duckham, chief racehorse trainer to the Prince Regent, had the first ten labourers arrive on the estate, digging the foundations for the new stables, alongside the present one.

 That new block would eventually house up to twenty thoroughbred horses and Jack would be their trainer. Even though, despite his successes, he was still short on self-confidence.

May into June, large carts each drawn by four large dray horses arrived to offload tons of red bricks, and sacks containing the concrete that would bind the bricks together.

Jack, initially overwhelmed by Lord Duckham’s proposal, had learned that it was after Trafalgar’s victory at Doncaster that Sir Oswald and his Lordship had begun positive talks about Jack’s abilities with horses.  This was allied to Lord Duckham’s admitting that the Prince Regent had needed horses stabled in the north for some time. Brandling Estate, with abundant spare ground, was an ideal location.

As deputy to Lord Duckham, Jack would have charge of the new stables. Initially, the idea had worried him, but both Lord Duckham and Sir Oswald had reassured him that success, plus his reputation as a true horse lover, made him ideal for the post. His Lordship had been even more impressed on learning that Jack could read.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” he had enthused, “you will be able to keep abreast of any rising trends in the sport.” Then laughing his deep laugh, he added, “As well as any gossip.”

Sir Oswald, as always with Becky, his niece, in tow, visited the stables to tell Jack and Alf, “By the time the foundations are done, there could be upwards of thirty men working on the estate. Lord Duckham expects it all completed by the end of August, when your new stock, maybe ten thoroughbreds will arrive.”

“We may have to be patient in our meetings,” he had whispered to her when Sir Oswald moved across to where the men were digging.

“Why?” she asked, her lovely face clouding.

He told her how having so many workers all over the grounds was going to be a problem for their warm assignations.

“Well, the weather’s improving. We’ll always have our cosy bathing place.”

Jack knew she was referring to the tree-enclosed lakeside spot where she had first shown her surprising interest in him. He regretted having to tell her that their whole secret bathing area would be stripped of all trees and foliage to build a training track around the lake.

With a hopeless shake of her head and a little giggle she said, “I’ll just have to smuggle you up to my bedroom.” Seeing Sir Oswald returning with Alf, she whispered, “Wouldn’t that be fun?” And she hurried across to the enclosure where the two thoroughbreds stood, noses over the fence.

Sir Oswald brushed at a little dust on his jacket sleeve, as he looked towards where his niece was patting the muzzles of the two horses.

“Alf tells me that you’re considering racing him earlier as a two-year-old than you did with Trafalgar.” Sir Oswald said, and he chuckled, “Is that so he doesn’t become too distracted by my niece?”

Becky made a little growling noise in her throat before responding, “It didn’t do Trafalgar any harm, did it?”

“Only joking, my dear. Only joking. He looks in good fettle, anyway.”

Jack had enjoyed the little exchange between Becky and her uncle, and said, “He’s developing well, and by the end of August we could have more thoroughbreds to deal with, an early race had been on my mind..”

Sir Oswald nodded, “Don’t forget though that there will be extra stable staff arriving.” He clicked his tongue, “I believe that Lord Duckham is dealing with that. May need extra building elsewhere in the ground.”

“Out of sight?” Becky queried.

Her uncle nodded, “Yes, your aunt has declared that we don’t want a barrack building in clear view.” He paused, before looking at Jack and saying, “Jack, I’m rather concerned about Rebecca riding alone with so many unknowns around. Alf agrees.”

Becky gave her uncle a fiery look, as she declared, “I can look after myself.”

Sir Oswald shook his head gravely, “I have no doubt about that, my dear, but you’d need strong back-up if a determined villain attacked you. Alf reckons that age is against him being a bodyguard.”

Jack had never heard Alf complain about his advancing years before, and now as he caught the wry smile on Alf’s face, he knew exactly what was coming. The wily old fox.

Becky looked slightly startled, as her uncle looked at Jack, “Would you ride with my niece, Jack? Would you have time?”

“Good suggestion, Major,” Alf said.

Would he? Oh, God, what a question. Without daring to look at Becky, Jack replied, “Well, sir, I believe keeping m’lady from harm is very wise. I’ll try to find a niche in my time.”

“I’d be grateful for that,” Sir Oswald told him. “Now, come along Becky, leave these gentlemen to get on with the important work.”

Jack tried to interpret the wicked gleam in her eyes as she followed her uncle more obediently than usual.

Alf, with a broad smile, told Jack that this terrible task of accompanying Becky be done after his own ride with Sir Oswald. “Just to avoid any complications.”

So, the next day, Rascal his own beloved horse, and Becky’s Ebony were both saddled and ready. Alf returned, leading Sir Oswald’s mount Charger, and as he lowered himself cautiously from the chestnut he preferred, he grumbled, “Oh, my bloody back’s killing me.”

Jack treated him to a grin as he said, “I hope you’re not getting old, Alf.”

Alf growled “I hope you’re not getting too big for your boots, lad.” But he returned the grin as he added, “Just because you’re in Prinny’s favour, doesn’t mean I couldn’t kick your arse.”

“Prinny?”

“That’s what everybody calls him. Too much of a mouthful, the Prince Regent”

Becky’s cheery voice greeted them as she appeared from the side of the stable away from where the labourers were working.

“Oh, work stops,” Alf moaned.

Jack getting his usual glow when she appeared, her brown eyes sparkling as she said, “I’ll pet Trafalgar before we start.”

Jack helped Becky mount Ebony, mainly to ensure her skirt did not reveal too much to the labourers.

He mounted Rascal, after giving him an affectionate scrub between the ears. As he urged his horse to follow Becky on Ebony, Alf with a lop-sided smile on his face, hissed, “Ride carefully, mind.”

Jack grimaced in his direction and then trotted Rascal after Becky. Side by side, they rode down the slope towards the lake.

“Alf worked this very well, didn’t he?”

Jack laughed, “He did. I almost refused.” Glad that because on Ebony, she couldn’t reach him with her elbow.

Jack did not need to point out the number of  labourers moving around, as he suggested a short slow trot around the lake, “And somewhere  more ambitious in future.”

 So, they took their obligatory ride around the lake, and Becky dismounted at the manor. She gave Jack a swift kiss, hurried towards the rear entrance, before looking back, and with a laugh in her voice, called, “We must do that again sometime, Mr. Wetherley. Although we must go further next time.

Jack, knowing her double entendre was deliberate, felt very happy as he rode Rascal back to the stables leading Ebony behind him.

The Bascombe hills beyond the village soon became their frequent destination.  Two leaning rocks giving good cover to eager lovers.

Jack and Alf continued to work with Nelson’s Pride, who was turning into a very promising prospect. When he was available, Nate, visited to give Trafalgar a gentle ride back to full fitness. He also had a more positive ride on the black stallion.

For this season they would concentrate on the six furlong’s distance and Nate recommended no racing the black until early September. Since his success in all of Trafalgar’s superb races, he had proved to be a valuable friend. He expressed his amazement at how the place was changing. There seemed to be labourers and bricklayers everywhere.

Then came the June afternoon, when Sir Oswald came across, flanked, as usual, by Becky. He was clutching what looked like a letter in his hand. Nate was present, having given Nelson’s Pride a second ride.

After greeting them with a wide smile and remarking on the advancement in the building work, Sir Oswald held up the letter and said, “I’ve received this today from Lord Duckham, and my niece told me that you would be here, Nate. So, this is highly appropriate.” He handed the letter towards Nate.

Nate’s prematurely wrinkled face looked crestfallen, “I can’t read, sir. Never learned.”

“No matter,” Sir Oswald said, “Probable right that the man who will be head of this stable and will give the ultimate decision should read it out. Jack?”

Jack, a little surprised, and rather troubled by Nate’s embarrassment, took the letter from Sir Oswald. Immediately he noticed the official Royal crest on the head of the missive. Then, clearing his throat he began to read.

“I, as Head horse trainer to His Highness, Prince Regent George, would like to, with His Highness’s blessing, offer the post of Royal jockey to Mr Nathaniel Oliver. This would entail riding all the Prince’s horses trained at the newly established Brandling Stables. Plus, any other Royal mounts that I may consider necessary. The offer rests upon two factors, the first being that the prospective trainer at the Brandling Stables agrees with the appointment, and the second that Mr Oliver is prepared to accept the terms attached to the post.”

There were closing comments about contracts, and the letter was signed by Lord Duckham. During his reading, Jack thought he had heard an, “Oh, my God,” from Nate and a delighted, “Yip,” from Alf.

Then Jack saw the tears on Nate’s face as Sir Oswald asked, “And does the head trainer of Brandling Stables agree to this appointment?”

Jack held out a hand to Nate, “Sir, there is no jockey in the whole world that I would rather have riding any horse I might have charge of. There are few men I would regard as a better friend.” And then he and Nate were embracing.

“All my career I’ve hoped—I’ve wished—” Nate’s voice choked with emotion.

“So, you accept then.” Sir Oswald laughed.

“I do, sir, I do.”

Then Alf was slapping his back and telling him what a pleasure it was going to be to have him permanently around. After Sir Oswald shook Nate’s hand, Becky held out her hand but after a brief pause, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

Becky’s influence changed the social conventions around the place. That, and the success of Trafalgar seemed to have drawn them all into a melting pot of equality. Alf called her Becky when it would always be, ‘m’lady’. Sir Oswald talked to and greeted Jack and Alf as good friends and not as the underclass they might have been elsewhere.

By mid-July all the brickwork on the new stables was complete. Timbers formed the triangle framework of the roof and men were busy laying the slates up there, while others were working on the timber fittings that would be part of each of the twenty stalls.

Becky had commented on the elongated shape of these new stables, but as the work had progressed, she had seen that unlike the present stables, the stalls for each horse would be out-facing, with a half-and-half door. “Oh, that’ll be wonderful.” She had enthused. “I’ll be able to go along a row and stroke all the muzzles.”

The pace of everything was astounding. Sir Oswald visited more regularly, viewing the progress of Nelson’s Pride, and the recovery of Trafalgar. But often to watch and praise the bricklayers and carpenters at their speedy development.

“Have you seen the accommodation block they’re putting up beyond the trees over there?” he asked, pointing over the green space at the rear of the mansion to where a fringe of trees began. “Lord Duckham promised rapid work and by God, we’re getting that.”

“Not only that, Major,” Alf said, “they’re well on with the development of the practice circuit around the lake. Needed widening in places.”

“Wonderful,” Sir Oswald observed enthusiastically, “we’ll be well prepared for the horses from the royal stables by the end of August.”

That familiar uncertain feeling came over Jack whenever he was faced with the prospect of something new, and he was feeling it now, as he asked, “Won’t Lord Duckham want to inspect the site before then?”

Sir Oswald gave a snorting laugh, “Almost like a directive. He’s let me know that he’ll be here on the 17th of the month on his way to visit Lord Westmoreland at Windemere”.

Jack, with much regret, watched as the lakeside bathing space, was stripped of all trees and shrubs. It was claimed that leaving it would create an unnecessarily difficult ‘hump’ in the track.

Jack and Becky had made the “innocent” horse rides to other places around the estate, but none had been as convenient or as accommodating as the twin stones on Bascombe Hills.

Then came the shock on that August day, two days before Lord Duckham’s visit, that they rode side by side towards the Bascombe Hills. Jack was just a little concerned that Becky had seemed unusually quiet. She had exchanged some views about how Lord Duckham would react to the development of the royal horses. But other than that, her silence had begun to worry Jack.

This wasn’t the bubbly, happy Becky that he’d loved since their first meeting. Something was upsetting her. Quickly tethering the horses, they sat close together between the sheltering rocks. Jack kissed her gently, her response was warm. but as she pulled away, he asked, “Has something bothered you?”

Her eyes were so tearful as she looked into his, “Oh, Jack. You know how I’ve told you how regular I am. Four weeks, unfailing?”

Something tightened in Jack’s chest, as a ragged sob escaped her lips, “Seven weeks it’s been. Oh, Jack, I’m pregnant.”