Amanda's Story

The Dream

*Note to readers: if you've read The Vicar's Daughters, you'll wonder what's going on when Dabney reappears. This story goes back in time and retells what happens from Amanda's viewpoint. This story begins in September 1805, before Amanda's engagement ball (which is now chapter 2). Also, Marian is not married. So you'll see a few differences in some story details but I hope you'll enjoy learning more about the sisters' lives.

Prologue

Somewhere in the distance, Amanda knew her father was calling her name. She turned, skipping along the lane that led from the vicarage house to the stable and paddocks beyond. She crossed into the tall grass, and the dew dripped onto her hem around her calves and soaked through her stockings. She slowed, each step becoming heavier and heavier. She scowled at her legs, pushing her knees up higher to untangle her feet and try to move faster.

"Amanda!" her father still called. She looked up, pushing her loose, blonde hair away from her face. She noticed her arms were bare. She had no wrap, no gloves, just the short cotton sleeves of her favorite day dress. She shivered. The morning was cool enough to make her breath appear in little puffs as she continued to push toward the sound of Papa's voice.

The whitewashed rails of the corral nearest the stable were suddenly before her. She reached up. Her arms could only reach the second rail. She grasped the weather-roughened wood and pulled herself up, her feet now out of the cold grass and perched on the bottom rail. She poked her head in the gap between rails and squinted into the beams of morning sun.

The corral seemed to be draped in a glowing mist. A breeze began to blow, and the mist parted. Now she could see her father, on the opposite side of the corral. "Look," he said, a reverent tone in his voice. He pointed.

Amanda's gaze slid slowly in the direction he indicated. Their favorite mare, Joy of Bedale, stood with her head down, breathing in snuffs that created tiny clouds. Squinting, Amanda peered into those clouds. Some dark and quivering shape lay at the mare's feet, steaming in the cool of the morning.

She looked closer. Joy licked the shape, nudged it with her nose, and snorted softly. Then the shape moved, one end rising.

It was a foal. The baby horse tossed it's head, jerking as if it suddenly discovered it was alive. Its ears swiveled, seeking the sound of its mother's comforting noises.

Joy licked and prodded the baby repeatedly. Amanda was mesmerized. Time seemed to freeze as she waited for the foal to take its first steps. First the rear quarters rose, the foal kneeling, its nose in the dirt. One leg moved. It fell over, back to where it started. After a few seconds, it began its next attempt to walk. This time it got both rear legs planted, wide apart beneath it, and the front legs unfolded slowly, pushing away from the ground as if carrying a great weight. The foal was up on all legs, head hanging, breath coming in labored bursts.

The mama horse nickered, an encouraging sound. The continued licking and jostling from Joy seemed to generate energy for the foal. Soon it raised its head, sniffing the air. It turned this way and that, hungry for its first meal.

Then it looked at Amanda. Somehow she knew, even though a great distance divided her from the foal, that it saw her. Its eyes were large, deep pools, black and luminous. Animal and girl stared at each other, both small creatures amid a large, mystifying world. Amanda slowly raised one hand and waved.

The foal blinked, then took a step. It took another. It stopped, legs trembling again. Then it swung its head towards the mare, traveled several inconsistent steps forward, and ended up under the mother's belly, nosing around for the milk she knew, by instinct, was hidden just out of sight.

Amanda laughed, a delighted noise on this magical morning. She looked again to her father. He motioned, holding out his arms to her. She bent and climbed through the fence, her small legs slipping easily through the space, and took off at a run. Her legs were as wobbly as the foals after clinging to the fence. She began to stumble and time slowed. She pinwheeled her arms, reaching for anything to hold her up. She willed her father to be close enough to catch her, but she still fell, forward, forward, the ground-up turf of the paddock looming before her face . . .

Amanda sat up with a gasp. Her arms were flung protectively across her face, and she blinked. A soft mattress was under her. Her feet were tangled in the warm blankets of a bed. Her arms were bare because she slept only in her thin shift.

She'd been dreaming.

She looked at the thin rays of light that slipped between the gaps in the velvet curtains that hung in her guest room at Foxthorpe Hall. She rubbed her nose, pushed her tangled, golden curls away from her face, then stretched her back and neck. Her mind was still fuzzy, expecting a misty paddock and baby horse to appear in front of her. She pondered a moment longer, knowing that as a six-year-old girl, she had witnessed a special morning just like that. She hadn't thought of it for years, though.

With a sudden jolt, she remembered what day it was. She was no longer six but sixteen, and it was the day of her betrothal ball. Her fiance, Lord Kendall Dabney, would present her before all the relatives and fine families of the county tonight. Her family would arrive today as well. She had no time to waste.

With a leap of nervous energy she left her bed, crossed to the door to the dressing room, and summoned Betsy, her maid. She then sat in front of the wardrobe mirror. A smile crept up her cheeks, soon illuminating her whole face. She couldn't help it—her legs may tremble like that baby foal, but her heart was already running full speed towards her future with Dabney.