Now, here they were, as the horses broke their circling and began moving down the course towards the one-mile starting post. They had followed their usual betting ploy but had managed no better than three to one for Trafalgar. Jack noticed that no one wished to divulge how much they had risked.

He wondered if the twenty pounds he had wagered had anything to do with the trembling in his chest but knew it was much more than that.

He turned his head to look into Becky’s eyes so close to him, as she whispered, “Soon, we’ll know.”

Jack nodded his head. He had already marvelled at the way Becky was allowed to sit between Alf and himself. He could only assume that Sir Oswald’s recent involvement with horse racing had somehow changed his privileged/commoner attitude.

Even now,  beyond Becky and Alf, Sir Oswald was leaning forward, to say to him, “Oh, Jack, this could be the life-changing moment.”

And again, Jack nodded his head, but with throat too tight for words, he was thinking it had been a strange way for Sir Oswald to say that.

A loud distinct voice came from somewhere above them, far superior to that they had heard at Doncaster, “The runners are all safely down at the start.” Looking up to a spot far left of the Royal Box, Jack saw the twin extra-large funnels through which the sound would evolve and a man who was peering through what looked like a large naval telescope.

A lady’s voice somewhere behind them called out, “I haven’t seen Prinny yet.”

A gentleman’s voice replied, “Probably sitting back guzzling champagne.”

Becky nudged Jack. “I’d forgotten about the Prince Regent being here.” She looked back and up before adding, “Can’t see anyone up there. Anyway, there’s something much more interesting happening down here.” And she giggled.

From this distance, it was almost impossible to make out the eleven horses a mile away. Only the whiteness of Majestic could be distinguished.

“The horses are lining up. The white Majestic, belonging to his Royal Highness is easily spotted in the centre of the line-up.”

Jack was disappointed with himself. He had been sure that, after two big races, he could stay calm for this one, important as it was. But the edginess remained. How often had Alf advised him that he needed some nervousness to keep him efficient? But he wasn’t convinced. Was he always going to be like this?

“And they’re off and running,” came over the loudspeaker.

Jack drew in a deep breath. Beside him, he sensed Becky’s tensing.

“Majestic is prominent immediately, flanked by Mimosa, Dark Legend and Grandiose, but at this stage, the rest of the field are closely bunched.”

“He hasn’t mentioned Trafalgar,” Becky groaned.

“Early days. They’ll sort themselves,” Jack said, trying to keep any anxiety out of his voice.

“At the first furlong marker, it’s a level group of Majestic, Dark Legend, Speed King, and Mimosa.”

“Still nothing,” Becky almost sobbed.

“Don’t worry,” Jack said, feeling the irony of himself saying that. “Nate knows what he’s doing” In fact, he wasn’t sure whether he could pick out the red and white cap on Nate just behind the leaders.

“Two furlongs gone, and Trafalgar has come alongside the leaders, with Majestic, Mimosa, Speed King all well there. Vigilant has made a fast appearance.”

“Come on, Trafalgar!” That clear shout came from Sir Oswald. He really was wound up for it.

Above the roaring of the crowd, Jack could still hear Lady Brandling’s, ”Hush, Oswald.”

Becky’s fingers were clutching at Jack’s arm, “Yes, oh, yes,” she sighed.

“Three furlongs marker and Vigilant has shot into a clear one-length lead. Majestic, Dark Legend, Grandiose and Trafalgar are almost in a line behind him. Vigilant appears to be increasing his lead.”

Jack was certain now that he could detect Nate’s red and white cap right alongside the obvious white body of Majestic, but there was no doubt that Vigilant in his orange colours was leading by a fair margin. Not that Jack was bothered by that, but Becky was.

“Can we catch him?” she asked, her concern showing in her tone.

Jack gave her a gentle pat on the hand as Alf said consolingly, “That one will tire.”

As though in contradiction to Alf the speaker's voice piped up, “At the halfway stage and now Vigilant has moved into a very clear four lengths lead over Majestic and the others.”

“Others!” Alf’s voice rose way above the sound of the crowd. “We’re the bloody others!”

His cry had Jack and Becky laughing nervously, but Jack could now make out that Trafalgar was right there with maybe four other horses, one of which was, of course, Majestic. But there was no doubt now that the horse Vigilant was well clear, and Jack was beginning to hope that Alf’s assessment was correct.

“Three furlongs to go and Vigilant is now at least four lengths clear and it does look at though the others are prepared to let him go. But we all know what Majestic can do in the final furlong.”

Jack could tell now that Nate was keeping Trafalgar close to Majestic, and he was certain that Vigilant had not gone any further ahead, but there were at least six horses in contention.

Now it was Becky’s voice that piped up, ”But you don’t know what Trafalgar can do in the final furlong.“ Then, the buzz from the spectators began to rise, as the horses approached the two-furlong marker. It was clear to Jack that Vigilant’s lead was not as great as it had been.

“See,” he said quickly to Becky, “it looks like Alf was right.”

Becky closed her hand tightly over his, and it occurred to Jack that this was quite a safe action since Alf was between Sir Oswald and her.

“At the six-furlong stage, there appear to be five horses in contention. Closing on Vigilant are Mimosa, Dark Legend, Trafalgar, Grandiose and of course, the favourite, Majestic.”

As the crowd’s excitement grew, roaring increased and people were coming to their feet.  Jack too, stood up, knowing this next furlong was going to be crucial.

He was anxious to observe Nate’s positioning on Trafalgar. Because she had not released his hand, Becky came to her feet too. “Will he do it?” she gasped, half turning to look back at Alf, also on his feet, for extra reassurance.

“We’re soon going to find out,” the older man told her.

The horses were well into the seventh furlong, and Jack, even above the roaring of the crowd, heard Sir Oswald’s loud, “Come on, Trafalgar. For all of us.”

“Approaching the final furlong and Vigilant still holds a one-length lead, but Majestic seems to be poised to strike. None of the other horses seem capable of competing with him.  Trafalgar runs alongside the Prince Regent’s magnificent horse. But—"  The commentator paused before predicting, “Are we about to see another magical burst?”

As at Doncaster, Becky’s fingers were now digging into Jack’s arm. But Jack had temporarily shut out everything, Becky’s grip, the commentary, the noise of the crowd, as he concentrated on what he could see of Nate’s actions as the horses approached that seven-furlong marker.

Did he imagine that he could see Nate’s eyes on Majestic’s jockey’s whip hand? That hand looked poised, but Nate, keeping Trafalgar level and going well, was leaning forward, his lips close to the horse’s ears.

“Approaching the final furlong and—”

Jack didn’t need to hear. He knew exactly what was going to happen. And it did. As the whip hand came down on Majestic, Jack was sure he saw Nate’s lips mouthing something close to Trafalgar’s ear. Both horses leapt forward as though joined and raced together past Vigilant as though he was standing still.

The commentator’s voice almost screamed as he yelled. “And there goes the wonderful Majestic, just as expected.” A moment’s silence before he exclaimed, “Oh, no. Trafalgar’s gone with him. It can’t be.”  Oh, yes it can! Jack wasn’t sure if he said it out loud, but beside him, Becky was screeching, “Trafalgar. Trafalgar.”

Alf was yelling, “Go on, boy. You show them!”

The amazed roar of the crowd could not drown out Sir Oswald’s cry of,  “We’re there. We’re there.” And even at the height of his delight at the performance, Jack thought that a strange thing to yell, when the race wasn’t over.

The two magnificent animals were neck-and-neck.

“It’s just Majestic---No, it’s Trafalgar. They’re level. Majestic’s nose is in---Check—Trafalgar is ahead. Now they are so near the finish—and it’s Majestic. Is it?”

Just as had been the case after the York success, it took another hundred yards before the horses could be slowed and turned. Jack saw Nate and the other jockey lean across, heads nodding as they hugged each other after an epic race.

“Did Trafalgar win?” Becky cried, and Jack saw she was in tears.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either.” Alf said, wiping at his own face, “but our horse was amazing.”

“Superb, that is the word for him. He has really done us proud.” Sir Oswald crowed loudly, looking so elated as though he knew the result. But Jack had to agree. Whatever the judges decided Trafalgar had really been a credit to them.

Out on the track, the four judges were conferring and there seemed to be much nodding and shaking of heads. All around there was the buzz of voices, “Majestic. No, Trafalgar. Majestic. Trafalgar.” Everyone was intrigued by the uncertainty.

Jack stood, with Becky still clutching his arm, while he was relieved to see her other hand gripping Alf’s sleeve. Sir Oswald, a wide smile on his face, was also staring at the judges.

At last, the judges broke from their huddle and turned to face the main stand. The crowd became hushed, expectant. Then the four men performed an elaborate bow in the direction of the Royal Box. And there was a ripple of gentle applause. Looking up, Jack could not see whether their action had been acknowledged.

Then the judges turned towards the commentary position, and one after the other they made a crossing of the forearms gesture. There were gasps as quite clearly some spectators knew what the gesture meant. But the announcement was almost immediate.

“Your Royal Highness, Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen. In the unanimous decision of the four distinguished judges, the result of this magnificent two thousand guineas race is—” Sharp intakes of breath all around—“A Tie. A Classic race indeed.”

“Trafalgar lost?” Becky asked, her voice threatening tears again, as a mixed chorus of cheers and woeful groans surrounded.

“No,” Jack reassured her, feeling such pride in his heart. “Both horses won.”

“Amazing,” Alf sighed, ”such a brave horse.”

To Jack’s surprise, Sir Oswald came alongside him and placing an arm around his shoulders, hugged him warmly. Jack turned to face him, and saw a much more serious countenance as he was told, “I have carried information since Doncaster, but now, I believe Lord Duckham will have an offer to make you and—”

Becky’s anxious voice broke in, maybe a little too anxious Jack feared, “Not offering him a job away from Brandling Estate horses, is he?”

Sir Oswald turned to her, showing little surprise at her outburst, but holding up a hand, he told her, “I’m saying nothing more until after the ceremony and Lord Duckham is available.”

He looked beyond their little group to where Lady Brandling was sitting looking rather grumpy, “Come along, dear. Presentation is due, and there’ll be champagne afterwards.”

That seemed a big enough lure and they were soon making their way back to the ring, being stopped and congratulated all the way.

“What’s going to happen, Jack?” Becky asked, close to his side, and lowering her voice to whisper, “I need to be alone with you.”

“I’m not sure, “ Jack admitted but could see now that Sir Oswald had carried some knowledge of future events which accounted for some of his strange behaviour.

“I don’t see how they can make much of the presentation,“ Alf observed, correctly as it turned out. “They wouldn’t expect a tied result.”

“Who was third?” Jack asked, just wanting the time to pass.

“Mimosa,” Alf told him. “Nine lengths behind, they reckon.”

Then they were in the ring and heading for the winner’s enclosure where there were two horses and two very happy jockeys. Jack hugged Nate effusively, telling him how grateful he was for the way he had handled Trafalgar.

“No. No.” Nate laughed, and it was pleasing to see how high he was. “He was handling me. Oh, Jack, such a brilliant responsive animal.”

Jack saw Sir Oswald exchange words with Lord Duckham, who gave a friendly nod in Jack’s direction. Then they heard that because of the tie situation, there would be no official ceremony.

An  Equerry appeared to apologise for the indisposition of his Highness, the Prince Regent who had been most impressed by the race. He went on to congratulate the owners, trainers, and jockeys of the two horses.

With that ceremony completed the Equerry was gone. But Lord Duckham, tall and imposing, as ever, came across and shook Jack by the hand, “That was some race, Jack, and I believe we have much to talk about in the privacy of the small board room.”

He led them to the rear of the stand, and on through a door that led into a small yet imposing room with walnut clad walls and a large table. A jug of water stood at one end of the table, around which they all sat.

“This shouldn’t take long, Jack, and is going to depend on your answer to my first question,” Lord Duckham declared.

Although a little puzzled, and not a little worried, Jack nodded his agreement. He heard Becky’s gasp and saw Sir Oswald’s smiling face even as he contemplated the wrench of leaving the Brandling Estate.  And he couldn’t avoid looking at Becky’s anguished face.

“Well?”

“Your Lordship, I would be honoured to take such an offer, but—”

“You don’t want to abandon Sir Oswald, is that it?” Then, before Jack could respond Lord Duckham turned to Sir Oswald and said, “You want to tell him about what we have discussed?”

Sir Oswald’s face was alight, as he replied, “I think the basics would be best coming from you, Lord Duckham. Jack and I can get down to the arrangements later.”

Lord Duckham nodded, “Good. Well, Jack, this request comes indirectly from the Prince Regent himself. For some time, he has wanted stables nearer the north. Less travelling for the horses, and more meetings to enter. Sir Oswald has kindly agreed to have certain alterations made to his estate so that can take place. Think you can manage ten to fifteen of his Highness’s finest horses? With a large number of stable hands of course.”

Jack felt totally overwhelmed, as he looked again in Becky’s direction, and her eyes told him exactly what he should do, even if he was still a little foggy about it. “On Brandling Estate, I’m sure I could.”

“Excellent, Sir Oswald will give you all the agreed details, at your leisure. I think then we should retire to the tent and drink to this partnership. Agreed?”

Lord Duckham led them towards the tent. Jack walked between Becky and Alf, who started in right away, “Holy hell, what a turn-up, Jack. That explains why the Major’s been so vague.”

Becky clutched Jack’s arm, “I was so worried. But now, oh, Jack it’s going to be so good. Ten thoroughbred horses.”

“Yes, Jack, this lady won’t give you a look in,” Alf laughed.

As they came to the tent entrance, Becky whispered, “The shrubs beyond the practice track. Ten minutes after I leave.”

Inside the tent, they found Lady Brandling already red-faced, holding forth with a group of other abandoned wives.

Soon they were seated in a cosy circle, and Alf hissed, “Drinking with Lords. I’m going up in the world.”

After a short while Becky excused herself and walked sedately out of their company.

Jack wished the minutes away. Then, once he considered sufficient time had elapsed, he excused himself.

Within seconds he was away from the tent and hurrying across the now quiet practice course. His eyes searched and he saw her blue dress like a beacon in front of the greenery behind her.

He hurried forward and their bodies smashed together, their lips met and, clinging desperately, their kiss was deep and moist

“Oh, Jack, it was so wonderful, so brief, but so essential. I love you, and you’re going to be an employee of the Prince Regent. But despite that, I still love you.”

They laughed, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack detected a shadow of real hope for their relationship. Something much more positive in their future.