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“What is an empress?”
“The ruler of an empire. Approximately the same as a queen, I suppose, though it does sound very impressive.”
“Yes, it does,” Rose agreed, twirling in the mirror again. “An empress. Empress Rose.”
“Your Majesty.” The maid, Hannah, smiled, because Rose could see her reflection in the big dressing mirror, too.
Hannah was a maid, and so she could never be an empress, or a queen. Of course, Rose couldn’t be one either, not really, unless she married a king or a… “What’s a man empress called? An empressor?”
Hannah snorted, then pretended to cough.
“An emperor,” her fake mama answered.
“Like Bonaparte. Oh. Now I don’t think I want to be an empress. I’ll be a queen general.” She stepped closer to Mrs. Pershing. “I know it’s only pretend,” she whispered, “but I like it.”
It wouldn’t do any good if the missus thought she was a baby. Imagining herself to be a queen general was fun, though, because usually when she pretended it was to be lost or to be looking for something she’d lost. Her favorite thing to pretend to lose was a puppy or a kitten.
Hurrying down the stairs as fast as she could while still holding on to the railing like a lady, Rose nearly ran into James coming out of the morning room. “I’m going to go riding,” she announced.
“So I see,” her brother said, glancing past her to where Mrs. P would be standing. “On new ponies, yet. When you come back, we’ll discuss getting you a puppy when we have our own home. You’ll need to think of a name.”
“Of course.” A maybe puppy was good, but a real pony was better. She waited while Powell opened the door for her. Tomorrow she might leave and come in a lot of times just so Powell would open the door for her each time. That could be fun.
“Look at me!” she ordered her brother when George and her fake papa came into view. “I’m splendid!”
“You look very fetching,” Mr. Pershing said, giving an elaborate bow with swirling fingers.
She liked her fake papa; he’d taught her some fencing, and didn’t mind when she called it swording—after all, it was about swords, and not about fences. “Thank you. Which pony is mine?”
“I think General is the best fit for you,” Mr. P, as George referred to him, said, pointing at the smaller, brown horse.
“‘General’? That’s not a name for a lady’s horse.” She made a face. “What’s the big one called?”
“Apple,” Georgie told her. “But I’m bigger, so I should ride the bigger horse.”
“But Apple is a perfect name for my horse. She’s lovely, too.”
“They’re both boys, miss,” Billet the very tricky groom said.
Bending down, Rose looked beneath the horse’s bellies to confirm that. This wasn’t at all right; ladies rode gentle mares with long manes. Mrs. P’s horse, Willow, was a mare. “Ladies shouldn’t ride boy horses.”
“It’s perfectly acceptable, my dear,” her fake mama said, and then leaned down to whisper in Rose’s ear. “I think the darker one is more spirited, and your brother may be worried about having to ride him.”
Her breath smelled like tea and tickled Rose’s ear, but she made a good point. Georgie didn’t like horses much, and she probably should ride the more spirited one. It was hard, sometimes, always having to be brave. She sighed. “I’ll ride General. But I’m going to call him Jenny, for short.”
“A very good compromise,” Hannah said. But when she talked, she wasn’t looking at General Jenny. She was looking at Billet, and her eyes blinked a lot.
“I’ll fetch the saddles, then,” the groom said, and went back into the stable.
“Have Willow saddled as well, please,” Mrs. Pershing called after him. “We might as well make an outing of it.”
“You’re going riding?” her fake papa asked, turning to look at his wife. He should have known that, because the missus was wearing a purple riding habit almost as grand as Rose’s, but men didn’t always notice things. Mr. P smiled at Mrs. P, but then he smiled at her more than she smiled at him. Or rather, she did smile, but not when he was looking. If it was a game they were playing, Rose wished she could figure out the rules.
“I thought I might as well,” her fake mama returned, her cheeks turning a little pink. “If we can combine a few lessons on manners and vocabulary with the riding, all the better.”
Well, Rose didn’t want any other lessons while she was learning to ride. She opened her mouth to say so, but Georgie pinched her arm. “Ouch,” she squeaked.
“Hush. Let ’em do their lessons,” he whispered. “We’ll get a good look around the property, so next time we’ll know the best way to head out and catch the mail coach. Or we can take the horses and ride away.”