I tend to be anti-culotte, but this honestly feels bang-on for Rosamund. Everything about her — the name, the plummy accent, the patrician bone structure — screams Your Wealthy Horsy Friend Who Lives in a Meticulously Run Stately Home. Here she has clearly thrown open the grounds for an expensive, expansive show-jumping event, which is raising funds for the rehabilitation of racehorses. Which she also owns, of course, but don’t bring that up, that’s not the point, James, gosh.
