A Matter of Choice

Chapter Ten

The next few days were spent choosing the patterns for the new gowns, and measuring and cutting. Aunt Letty was to sew all Emily's gowns with the help of Emily's maid and Emily herself. Maude Sidford had her gowns styled by a French seamstress who, as luck would have it, lived in the village and was frequented by all the ladies of the neighbourhood, even Lady Penelope, who was very particular in the matters of dress. Any free moment that she had, Emily took her book into the garden and lost herself in the pages. She was the only female in the house who could think of something other than the new wardrobe. Lady Penelope had been visiting and advising every day, putting her final approval on all of Aunt Letty and Emily's choices, and helping her dear friend Maude with the more minute decisions of matching ribbons and lace with Mme Fanchot for her own elaborate creations. Escaping into the garden, Emily would find herself with Anne Elliot, a heroine who touched her heart with her silent endurance. Emily felt a bond grow - even though she had never been in love as Anne had, did not, in fact, believe in love in the real world - she knew what it was like to be taken for granted and to live according to other's wishes rather than her own.

Finally Tuesday came, the day for the bramble picking expedition with Sophie Farquar. Even though Sophie was not her first choice for a companion, Emily was looking forward to seeing her and escaping the needles and pins and reams of fabric that she was continually being draped with. It was a fine day for early September, and by the time her carriage dropped her on the other side of the village at Marsham Lodge, the sun was already high in a cloudless sky. Sophie met her in the front hall with two baskets.

"Goodness, Emily, what on earth are you wearing?"

Emily looked down at the old housedress she had on. It was plain and faded; it had once been a pale fawn but was now more of a sandy grey. "We are going berrying, are we not? What does it matter how I look. This gown is very serviceable; I would not want to snag or stain a good gown."

"You have the strangest ideas! Who knows whom we shall chance to meet? This sprig muslin of mine looks charmingly, and I swear I shall not snag it. And what do you think of my bonnet? Is it not precious?"

"It is a very becoming bonnet. I do hope those long ribbons do not become entangled in the brambles."

"Oh fie, I shall not be putting my head in the bushes! Let us go. What a walk we shall have. The brambles are quite at the other end of the estate. It is a pity that Lord Ralph could not be here to carry our baskets. I have arranged for Stephens to come with the cart to bring us back. Won't that be droll? Riding in the back of a cart like we did when we were little girls."

"As I recall, we did it but two years ago, and it was rather bumpy. You found it quite unpleasant."

"Oh! Do not remind me. You shall put me quite out of patience with Lord Ralph for being so ungentlemanly as to go back on his promise to accompany us."

"He did say it was important business that prevented him. He will come by Marsham Lodge to take me home."

"So I shall scold him then! And he shall see you in that fright of a gown, Emily. What a joke on you!"

"I care not."

The girls left the Lodge and walked down past the stables, and through the fields, Sophie chattering all the way. Emily's mind drifted on, not attending.

The early September sun was hot on Emily's back as she reached through the arches of prickled branches for the dark, plump fruit. She had forgotten her gloves and her fingers were stained with the rich juice. Her hands and her arms were scratched in places by the brambles. Sophie sat in the shade of a hawthorn hedge, her basket only partly full.

"Emily, do stop. I don't know how you go on in this heat."

"I am almost done."

"Your basket is quite full. Come and join me in the shade."

Emily returned and sat with her friend. Sophie reached into her basket and started to eat the fruit that Emily had just picked.

"Just look at your hands, Emily. You must remember gloves! Oh, whose idea was it to pick brambles? It is such tedious, hot work."

"Yours, I believe."

"La, you are quite right! But I only suggested it because I thought Lord Ralph would accompany us. I thought we would look just the picture with this bonnet and sprigged muslin, and the sweet little baskets piled with fruit, and a handsome gentleman attending us. Of course, I had you in quite a different outfit. A straw bonnet with plum ribbons and a pale pink gown. I should like to see you in pink for you never wear it. Had I known he was not to come, I should have sent Lucy."

"I sent you a note to inform you. You could have changed the plan, although I am glad you did not. I have been looking forward to our outing. Besides, why would you only want to pick berries if he were here? Just to be picturesque? He would not help us, you know. He would just lounge in the shade, offering advice as to where to find the best fruit."

"And I would sit in the shade with him, and feed him berries."

"While I did all the work? It would be no different than now," said Emily, becoming a little irritated with Sophie.

"Why yes, it would be wonderfully different. I would have his company."

"His company," said Emily, looking directly into Sophie's pretty cupid face. "What can his company be to you if he is betrothed to me?"

"Why, I believe you are jealous!"

"I should think not!"

"I do not know why you do not release Lord Ralph from his pledge."
"Whatever are you talking about?"

"You could have married him these five years, and yet you have not. I have watched you two together, and forgive me if you think it impertinent, but I see no love between you."

"You are impertinent. What has love to do with it? The betrothal was made by our mamas."

"But would you not rather marry for love?" said Sophie, earnestly looking into Emily's clear grey eyes. "I would!"

"Love! And whom would I fall in love with? There is no one I have seen who I could love. My marriage is arranged, after all, and love is only found between the pages of a novel."

"Dearest Emily, don't take on so. I have a confession to make," said Sophie, laying her basket aside and reaching for Emily's hands beseechingly. "I know you will hear me out. You are the best creature, and my special friend. To whom but you can I tell what is truly in my heart?"

"Sometimes it is best to keep your own counsel. Pray, don't say anything that you will regret."

"How you do go on! You can't fool me though; I know you are dying to hear me."

"Not in the least. I do not think I want to hear you at all. I have a suspicion of what you will say, and it is best left unsaid," said Emily, hastily.

"Don't attempt to forestall me, Emily. I shall not be gainsaid. My courage has risen to the full, and if you have guessed the nature of my disclosure, so much the better that I say it. I am in love with Lord Ralph. There, I have said it and now you know."

"It cannot be so. It is pure foolishness to say that you are in love with my betrothed."

"And yet it is the god's truth. I love him and you do not. How can you marry him, knowing this?"

"I have been promised to him since my birth. I have known it all my life, and you have known it almost as long as I. How could you allow this to happen? How could you lose control of your feelings in such a way?" demanded Emily.

"Love is not something you can help feeling. I did not one day say ‘I will love Lord Ralph.' You are so cold. You do not understand the finer emotions. I looked at him one day, and he smiled . . . and my heart was his."

"I will not sit by and listen to this nonsense!"

"Dearest Emily. Don't be so selfish. Why should you insist on keeping him if I love him? Why make me suffer so?"

"I beg you. Think, Sophie. Say no more."

Emily stood up and grabbed up her basket. She implored Sophie to stop, but Sophie kept on entreating her, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her hand stretched out to clasp at Emily's gown. Emily cried out, "Oh, I cannot listen anymore," and started to run along the lane, her basket banging against her, berries spilling everywhere. She came upon a stile, hopped it, and ran along, around a clump of hazels and right into a strange gentleman. She stopped short. Her bonnet was hanging by its ribbons, her hair was tumbled, and her gown was streaked with berry juice. She stood in shock, staring into his green eyes. He held out his hands to steady her. They stood like that for a moment and then he recollected himself and loosed her arms. She stood, still in shock, and then suddenly dropped the basket. The last of her berries spilled at her feet.

"I am so sorry to have startled you," he said, finally finding his voice.

She gave no answer, her eyes, wide and startled, stayed on his.

"Here, Let me help you." He knelt down and started to pick the berries from the grass and place them in the basket.

"No . . . it's my fault . . . do not bother."

"It is no bother."

She knelt as well and retrieved as many berries as she could that were not spoiled.

"Thank you." Their hands almost touched as they went for the same pile of berries. Her startled gaze flew to his face. He smiled. A soft warm smile. It calmed her jangling nerves. "You must think me a complete fool."

"Indeed, I do not."

"I am not normally so missish," she said, as the last of the berries were returned to the basket. He looked at her hands as she wiped them together.

"Have you no handkerchief?" he asked, and pulling one from his breast pocket, he handed it to her. "Here, take mine."

"It is quite alright, sir. You see my hands are already past worrying about. I am afraid you need it for yourself."

"I have another. Please take it."

She took it and wiped her fingers.

"You have scratched your hands and arms."

"It is of no moment, I assure you. If one is foolish enough to pick brambles without gloves, it is bound to happen."

"Are you sure you will be all right? Do you live close by? May I escort you home?"

She was suddenly brought back to her situation. She was alone in a field with a strange gentleman. Entirely alone. Why had she so foolishly run from Sophie? She should have kept her head. She picked up her basket and looked again into the stranger's genial green eyes.

"I am sorry. I must go. Thank you for your help."

She turned and ran back around the clump of bushes as he stood and watched her. She climbed over the stile again and ran down the lane towards the hawthorn hedge where she had left Sophie. She was almost back when she realised that she still had his handkerchief clasped in her hand

Chapter Eleven

Sophie ran towards her when she came into view and clasped her free hand in both her own, agitation clearly written on her tearstained face.

"Where had you got to? How could you leave me alone in this wilderness?" were the first words that greeted her, then Sophie hugged her close and said in softer tones, "I am so sorry. Can you forget everything that I said?"

"I cannot forget it," said Emily, returning Sophie's hug. "But I can assure you that I will endeavour not to think of it, and I will never refer to it again."

"Thank you," said Sophie, wiping her face with her small, gloved hands. "It was very foolish of me. Do you forgive me?"

"Of course."

"You are too good. Oh what a mull I have made of things! Let us go back now. Surely we have enough berries, and Stephens will be waiting for us in the lane."

"I have lost most of mine," said Emily. "I should just pick a few more."

"Oh it does not signify. If there is not enough for the jelly then a kitchen maid can come tomorrow and pick some more. You must be tired after that wild run." Sophie looked at Emily a little more closely. "Is there something amiss? Are you still upset with me? You do look very flustered."

"It is nothing," said Emily, trying to compose herself, but in truth she was still very agitated from her encounter.

"It will not do to say it is nothing, Emily. There is indeed something bothering you, for you are shaking like a leaf. Is being with me such a torture for you now? You told me I was forgiven."

"It is not that at all. It is something else entirely."

"Indeed!" said Sophie, turning her back and starting to walk toward the lane.

"Wait, Sophie. Don't be cross. I will tell you what has happened. It is nothing really. I don't know why I am so overset. I ran down the lane, and climbed over a stile and then ran straight into a stranger. That is all."

"A stranger? Some farmer, a rough peasant, or perhaps a gypsy? How horrible to run into a gypsy to be sure. We must leave immediately or he will be after us!" cried Sophie in consternation.

"It was not a gypsy, or even a farmer. It was a gentleman."

"A strange gentleman? Who could it be? That is old Sir Edward Warrington's land, but he is an invalid."

"I see Sir Edward every Sunday at church, and it was not he. It was a young gentleman."

"A young gentleman? A handsome young gentleman, no doubt. That is what overset you. How romantic! Oh, I wish it had been me. Tell me, was he tall and dark? Did he have a beautiful white horse?"

"You have a deal too much imagination. He was just an ordinary gentleman," said Emily.

"How did he look? What did he do?"

"He looked like anyone you might see anywhere. He was polite. He helped me pick up the spilt berries."

"Oh, Emily! You have no soul. You should have fallen instantly and desperately in love. You should have memorised his every feature. You must learn to take advantage of such adventures," teased Sophie, laughing at her friend. "Can you not remember a thing about him? His bearing, his countenance, the colour of his hair? Was he a man of style?"

"As to that, I can't say. I was so shocked, I took nothing in. I dropped my basket and he helped me. Then he asked if he could escort me home, and I recollected myself and ran off."

"I wish you had let him escort you here and then I could have seen him. It seems the only way that I will get any useful information of him would be by my own observation."

"I assure you, there was nothing at all special about him. I don't know that you would want to meet him for he was not remarkable at all. I don't know why I reacted in such a missish manner. It was really a meeting of no consequence."

"Nor I," said Sophie as they reached the cart. "If I had run into him, I would sure have fainted and he would have had to carry me to the nearest farmhouse."

Stephens helped the two girls into the back of the cart, turned it expertly in the narrow space, and drove them home. Sophie kept up her chatter all the way back to the house, conjecturing on who the gentleman was, and his purpose in Sir Edward's fields. Emily listened and responded with little attention. She was going over her experience in her mind. Why had she been so foolish? Was it such a terrible or frightening thing to suddenly come across a gentleman in the hedgerows? A gypsy would give cause for dismay and fright, but a gentleman must always be safe. This was evident in his reaction. He was all politeness and concern, and she had behaved in such a silly manner dropping her basket and stammering like a schoolgirl. How was it she could remember nothing of his looks, his bearing, the colour of his hair? He had held her arms for a moment, to steady her, and she had looked straight up into his face. Then she had dropped the basket. Thinking of it brought colour to her cheeks. What a silly thing to do. How could she have behaved so! He had been startled too, a wild girl almost running him over, but he had stayed calm, and his reassuring manner had settled her. Then he had helped her and lent her his handkerchief, and she had no more wit than to suddenly turn heel and run off before returning it. And what was she now supposed to do with his handkerchief when it was very unlikely that she would ever see him again?

After an uncomfortable and bumpy ride that Emily barely noticed, they reached the stable yard and were helped down from the cart by Stephens. They gave the baskets of berries over to a servant and walked across the cobbles towards the Lodge.

Sophie turned to look at Emily and let out a shriek of mock horror. "My, you do look a fright! I hope I am not as bedraggled as you."

"You look very well but for the straws that are clinging to your gown," said Emily shaking out her own gown.

Sophie followed suit, saying, "Nothing will help your gown, my dear, it is all streaked with juice from the berries, but let me at least try to make something of your hair and bonnet. You do not want Lord Ralph to see you as you are."

"Thank you, Sophie," said Emily, and she meekly stood still and allowed herself to be tidied.

"There! You do not look quite so dishevelled now," said Sophie after a few minutes, "but nothing can be done for your gown or your hands. Let us hope Lord Ralph does not refuse to take you up with him."

"I think he would rather take me up with him than have me walk through the village like this for all the neighbours to see."

They found Lord Ralph in the parlour, taking tea with Sophie's mother.

"There you finally are! I have been waiting this age," he greeted them.

"Oh fie, Lord Ralph!" said Sophie's mother. "They have probably been dawdling this half hour in order to make you wait. Young girls do enjoy trying such arts on their gentlemen callers."

"Oh mama!" cried Sophie, colouring. "We do no such thing." She smiled sweetly at Lord Ralph and continued, "I am so sorry that we kept you waiting, but Emily had quite an adventure and it made us late."

"It was hardly an adventure."

"You see, she keeps insisting it was nothing, but she went for a wild run down the lane straight into the arms of a handsome young gentleman."

"He was perfectly ordinary, I assure you."

"So she keeps disclaiming, but I believe that one never runs into perfectly ordinary strangers. In situations of this sort, the stranger cannot help but be handsome and charming."

"Whatever possessed you to do such a thing, Emily?" asked Lord Ralph testily.

Emily suddenly remembered why she had been running and blushed deeply. Sophie appeared not to be conscious of it at all, but sat, waiting for her answer in complete nonchalance.

"It was folly. I took a fancy to run. The stranger was very polite and I apologised and came away. That is all."

"What a very unusual thing for you to do!" expostulated Lord Ralph. "Folly and fancy! That does not sound like you at all."

"But who could the stranger have been?" persisted Sophie. "This could not have happened if you had accompanied us, Lord Ralph. With your escort we would have had protection from all manner of strangers."

"I am very sorry that I was unable to come," said Lord Ralph quickly. "If I had been there you can be assured that I would have gone and accosted this stranger to see what he was about."

"I have had enough of this," said Emily. "I am sure he had a perfect right to be where he was. I was the trespasser, after all, I did climb over the stile."

"You climbed a stile?" asked Lord Ralph in disbelief.

"There! See how little you know her. She is such a sly thing, to be sure," teased Sophie. "I can assure you that I would never run helter-skelter down a lane, jumping over stiles. Such indecorous behaviour is terribly unbecoming."

"Now then dear," said Sophie's mother. "Don't be so hard on Emily. She has always been a good little thing. One unfortunate episode does not ruin a girl entirely, you know."

"I know you mean to be kind, Mrs. Farquar, but really Sophie has exaggerated the whole episode. If you would pray excuse me, I would like to be taken home now, the sun has given me a headache."

The commotion that this announcement caused would have brought on a headache, had Emily not had one already. Mrs. Farquar rushed forward, waving her sal votale under Emily's nose, Sophie shooed her mother away, admonishing her that Emily was not fainting, while Mrs. Farquar rejoined that nothing worked for her headaches like a sniff of her favourite salts; Lord Ralph rang for the servant and asked for his carriage to be brought around at once saying over and over to Emily that he had been willing to take her home as soon as she had arrived and had only been waiting for her word on the subject; Sophie was insisting that there was no need to call for the carriage yet as all Emily needed was to be in a darkened room, while Martha, her ladies maid, bathed her forehead in lavender water, and in no time she would be right as rain; and Emily sank back in her chair, her hand to her forehead, struggling to keep back the embarrassing tears that she refused to shed.

Finally the curricle was announced and in short order Emily found herself handed up to it and seated on the high leather seats. She watched as Lord Ralph bid adieu to Sophie and her mother, holding Sophie's hand just a trifle too long as she smiled up at him. As he drove her home, Lord Ralph remarked on what a well looking girl Sophie was and how lucky Emily was to have such a sincere and sensible friend, whose lead she would do well to follow. Considering her current feelings toward Sophie, Emily wisely kept her counsel. That Sophie had been openly attempting to flirt with Lord Ralph, and saying all she could to put Emily's behaviour in a bad light, had been obvious to Emily at least, and she was very displeased. Sophie had promised not to talk of her love for Lord Ralph anymore, but it was clear that she did not intend to stop thinking of him. It was not that Emily was jealous, no, there was no reason for that, it was just that she felt she had been ill treated by someone who she had thought to be her friend. Not until Lord Ralph had dropped Emily at her doorstep and wished her a good day, totally forgetting to ask her whether her head was at all improved, did Emily realise that not once had he remarked on the state of her gown. It was certainly not out of politeness, for Lord Ralph had no compunction about telling her when he thought her looks off or her dress unbecoming. It must have been simply that he didn't notice. Relieved to be home, Emily ran upstairs to change, knowing that if her mother should see the state of her dress it would certainly not be overlooked.

Chapter Twelve

James stood and watched as the girl ran off. What an unusual encounter! He had arrived at Wortham Lodge late Saturday evening, making a full long day of the journey to avoid Sunday travelling. His welcome had been all that he could have wished, warm open hospitality; a supper waiting for him, and hot water brought to his room to wash away the stains of travel before laying himself down in the comfortable bed. He stayed abed Sunday morning, sleeping so late that he missed church entirely, and spent the rest of the day with his uncle and aunt, getting to know them and learning all that his uncle could tell him about the estate. On Monday he began his tour of inspection, and Tuesday afternoon had found him riding along the hedgerow that bordered the lane. The brambles in the hedges had been thick with berries and he had dismounted, tempted by the plump fruit. He had left his horse in the shade of an elm, accompanied by the starlings that had settled noisily into the branches, and had wandered along the hedgerow eating the berries, and noting the state of disrepair of the hedge. At places there were big gaping holes where dogs had dug away at the bank in search of badger or hare.

Suddenly, from around a clump of hazels, the girl had come running directly in his path. Her bonnet had slipped down her back, and her dark brown hair was half loosed, and falling about her face. He just had time to put his hands out and grab hold of her arms to stop her from running right into him. She stared straight into his face. Her wide eyes were a clear grey, and her face was pale beneath its summer brown. She had a regular nose and a small mouth in an oval face. Her look of surprise increased and he suddenly realised that he still held her arms. He loosed her immediately and she reacted by dropping her basket. What berries were left in it tumbled out all over the ground. He had said something then, he remembered, apologised for startling her or some such thing, but he had not been thinking very clearly. It is hard to think clearly when you find yourself suddenly with a girl almost in your arms, and so close that you can see the dark rings around her clear grey irises. And she kept those eyes on his, until he broke his gaze and offered to help her pick up her berries. She said something then, stammering about needing no help, then thanking him as he insisted. And then as they replaced the berries together she relaxed a little and excused her foolishness. Her fingers were all over with juice from the ripe berries and he lent her his handkerchief. He noticed the scratches she had received from the brambles, but she passed them off as nothing. She had seemed relaxed and at ease, and then he had offered to escort her home and she had taken off like a frightened rabbit.

He still stood, looking in the direction she had gone, but there was nothing to see. He walked along and around the clump of hazels, and noticed, a little further along, a stile leading to the lane which ran along the other side of the hedgerow. That was probably the way she had come and the way she had gone. He looked through the gap in the hedge, in both directions, but saw nobody. He didn't know what else he had expected to see. The girl must have come from one of the farms nearby, the daughter of a gentleman farmer. He sat down on a pile of faggots, musing on this idea. Her dress had been worn, and not of the latest style, which spoke of humble origins, but her face, her voice, and her bearing were pure gentility. If he were to judge by her voice alone, he would put her much higher than the daughter of merely a gentleman farmer. But he had to take all the factors into consideration, picking berries unescorted and the clothes that she wore. And why was she running? Had something frightened her? And here he was; he had been in a position to help her, if she had needed help, and instead he had just let her run off. Somehow, he felt, he had frightened her more than anything else had. She had clearly been discomposed when she had run into him, but she had not appeared frightened in any way. The idea of him escorting her home was what had frightened her off. But still, she did not appear to be running just for enjoyment or exercise. There was no figuring it out, he decided, as he walked back towards his horse. All he really knew was that he had made a mull of it. He hoped that the girl was all right.

He walked back, idly kicking at the knapweed and thistles in the hedge. The image of the girl was fixed in his mind. She was not a beauty, but rather was plain, with her small mouth and straight brows, but her eyes were strangely attractive, with the darker rings around the clear grey of her irises, and the wide spacing in her oval face. He wondered how she would look if she were to smile. Then he smiled to himself at his own foolishness. Here he was, thinking about a complete stranger who he knew nothing of and would surely never meet again. He was in a new county, starting his new life, not as the son of a baronet, but as a steward to an uncle who lived a retired life. He would be busy working on the land, not living the idle life of a gentleman, and every person that he was about to meet would be as unknown to him as this girl who had chanced to run into him. The newness of everything could not help but captivate his interest. He approached his horse and patted him fondly on the neck, before mounting onto the saddle. As he started Sophocles off walking along the hedgerow again he reached for his breast pocket to take out his handkerchief and mop his brow. It was not there. It was only then that he realised the girl had not returned it.

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.

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