It worked, allowing her to throw her other leg over and settle in the saddle with an element of grace, for climbing had made her limber as well as strong. She watched, impressed, as he jumped on his own horse without any assistance and took the reins expertly, thoughtlessly, in his hands. Back in his jacket, his hair slicked back, no trace of the food fight remained upon him. He looked as dignified as ever. She, on the other hand, looked like she’d gone to war with a hedge.

‘Shall we, then?’ Sibyl asked, clicking her heels and walking her horse on.

They moved in single file through the avenue, the horses treading carefully down the steep banks. Instinctively Effie angled her weight back but by the time she got to the flat, Sibyl was already circling them.

‘What do you say? Shall we stretch their legs?’

‘No, this is Effie’s first time riding,’ Sholto said quickly.

‘Is it?’ Sibyl looked surprised. ‘I never could have guessed. You’ve a wonderful seat, my dear.’

‘She’s a natural,’ Sholto said.

‘Well, of course she is. She’s brilliant at everything. Look what she managed last night, rescuing Miss Petunia like that,’ Sibyl said, smiling. ‘Let’s just step into a pretty canter then. It’ll take an age to walk back and I do so hate trotting. It makes my brain rattle.’

Sholto looked at Effie.

‘Fine,’ she replied before he could demur on her behalf again.

‘Good girl, that’s the spirit,’ Sibyl said, tugging on her reins and heading a straight line back to the house; it was but a bright speck in the distance from here. With a hard kick of her heels and a single flick of the crop, her horse broke into a canter.

Effie did the same, not allowing herself a moment to falter; indecision led to paralysis, she knew that from the ropes. Keep moving, it was nature’s way. The mare obligingly broke into an easy, flowing rhythm and from pure instinct, Effie felt her body tense, her arms and legs becoming rigid against the momentum.

‘Stay relaxed,’ Sholto said, cantering beside her.

Breathing out through her mouth, she forced herself to release her thigh and arm muscles, to let the horse’s stride ripple through her, rather than trying to resist it.

‘That’s it,’ he nodded. ‘That’s all it is.’

Sibyl was leading the charge, cheering up front and looking over her shoulder to check on them every now and then. The great house began to grow greater as they passed through Cow Park and towards the ha-ha, the building’s sense of heft and noble intention beginning to impress itself once more. She could make out the southerly sweeping staircase, the east and west pavilions . . .