A Matter of Choice

Chapter Sixteen

Ruth met Emily on the parsonage steps. She handed Emily a laden basket, asking if she could put it in the gig for her.

"I have some business I must take up with the housekeeper, but I won't keep you waiting above fifteen minutes," she said hurriedly. "You could wait for me in the parlour or take a turn in the garden, whichever you prefer."

"I would like to wait in the garden, I think," said Emily, "but first there is a favour I would like to ask of you. My maid Alice is interested to learn how to read and I was wondering if she could go to the schoolroom and attempt to learn from the books there while she waits for us."

Ruth gave Emily an appraising look. "I have a better idea. She can go to the schoolroom and join my young sisters' lesson. My mother is always pleased to help anyone who is willing to learn."

"Oh! I would not expect your mother to teach her! She is only my maid."

This sounded more like Emily, the girl who had been brought up with every advantage and taught to ignore those beneath her. Ruth Chesterton sighed and said a little sternly, "Emily, my mother has taught many of the maids in our own household. Learning is not something that should be available only to the higher classes."

"Yes, but I don't want to take up your mother's time over Alice. Your mother has all her own children to teach," said Emily.

"Set your mind at rest. My mother will be happy for her to join the lesson, and my sisters will probably bear most of the burden of teaching Alice. It will be good training for them. They are thinking of becoming teachers, you know."

"Thank you. But do your sisters really want to be teachers? They are full young to have such ideas, are they not?" asked Emily. "Are they not dreaming of getting married as most young girls do?"

"Some dreams are more likely to be fulfilled than others," answered Ruth with a rueful smile. She turned to Alice and asked her to follow her, and they made their way together into the house.

Emily carried the basket over to the gig and deposited it carefully on the floor beside her own basket. She reflected that there would not be much room for their feet with two such big baskets taking up so much space. Emily patted Shadow on the flank and stroked her neck.

"You be good and wait for us here," she whispered, knowing that Shadow was so reliable, she would wait all day and never wander off.

Emily let herself into the garden through the wicket gate. The early September weather was still beautifully warm, and there were a profusion of roses on the trellis, humming with lazy bees. She wandered amongst the shrubs and paused at a huge weigela. It had flowered profusely in May and June, and now it was in its second flowering; the small carmine bells were scattered sparsely amid the dark green ovate leaves. She reached up and picked a sprig and studied one of the flowers. The deep red paled to pink in the heart of its throat. It was faintly fragrant as she held it up to her nose. The petals had a smooth, velvety softness. She stood, totally absorbed by the delicate bloom, mesmerised by the distant hum of the bees and the enveloping warmth of the morning sun. A sudden movement in front of her caused her to look up in apprehension.

The pathway James had taken brought him to the edges of a garden, and he could now see the gables of the parsonage rising out from the shrubs. The thick grass muffled his steps as he walked briskly between the bushes, his eyes all the time on his object, the warm yellowed sandstone walls of the manse. Suddenly, for the second time that week, he found himself confronted with a pair of startled grey eyes staring up into his own. The very same pair. There was no mistaking the clear light grey of the iris, circled with that dark rim. He only managed to stop just in time before he walked right into the girl. Instinctively he put his hands out to steady her. She was wearing a small straw bonnet, and her hair was, this time, firmly in place, but there were wisps that had escaped and trailed softly from her forehead and over her temple, to reach the curve of her jaw line. She was dressed simply again, in a mossy green that fit so perfectly into the garden that it was no wonder he had not noticed her earlier.

Emily stood in confusion as a rushing figure almost bowled her over. After her immediate shock, she felt like she was reliving a memory of that moment on Tuesday afternoon, only this time the details were restored. His eyes were a clear green, the colour of the underside of a leaf of rosemary, with darker striations of blue-green. Now why hadn't she remembered that? And his hair; it was a rich honey brown, like buckwheat honey, not clover. It was thick and longish, and had a bit of a wave to it. His face was open and honest and she felt again the feeling of security that seemed to emanate from his very being, even as she became aware of his hands on her shoulders. She did not feel uncomfortable that he still held her, only safe. Through the fog of her consciousness, she became aware that he was speaking; this was not some sort of memory, this was real and happening right now.

"I do beg your pardon," he said in a gentle voice. "I have not hurt you have I?" He dropped his hands from her shoulders.

"I am . . . quite all right," she said in a dazed voice.

"Did I frighten you? I was on my way to the parsonage, and not really looking where I was going. I suppose I ought not to be in your garden."

"I am not frightened," she said without taking her eyes from his face.

He noticed that at the centres, around the pupil, the slightest tinge of ice blue rayed out into the grey. And yet her eyes were not cold. They were candid and unnerving, and they certainly made him lose his train of thought.

"I am here to visit the parson. Do you know -- is he in?"

"I suppose -- in his study, or . . . the church?" I can't even utter a proper sentence. He is going to think me quite a fool.

James stood looking down at her, not knowing what to say. She was twirling a spray of flowers between her fingers and looking back at him expectantly. There were so many things he wanted to ask her; what had she been running from when he had first met her, why had she suddenly run away? "Your scratches on your hands and arms -- are they better? I was concerned about . . . I should have helped you."

She turned pink and looked down at her hands. "They have healed, thank you. There was nothing -- you did help me. Very much." She reddened all the more.

He realised that he was the cause of her discomposure, and he wondered if there was something improper in his staying and talking to her alone in the garden when they were not even introduced. She must be the parson's daughter. He should go and visit the parson, and maybe later he could meet her in an appropriate setting. "If you will excuse me, I will go in search of the parson," he said, bowing. "It was very nice to see you again."

She smiled at him, a very small smile, but the first he had seen from her. As he turned to go, she suddenly called out, "Oh! I forgot. I still have your handkerchief -- I must return it to you!"

He smiled at her warmly. "Do not worry about it. I have replaced it already."

"No. I will have it washed and I will return it," she answered adamantly.

"If it has not been washed yet, I fear the stains will never come out," James laughed.

"Oh!"

"Do not fret. It is only a handkerchief after all," he said, wishing he hadn't teased her. He would have to remember that all girls were not like his sister and accustomed to teasing. He hesitated and then decided that it would only make matters worse if he stayed. He was having no luck with anything that he said. "I will see you again some time, I am sure. Goodbye." He turned and walked on toward the parsonage as she stood staring after him.

‘How very strange,' Emily thought, ‘to run into the same unknown gentleman again. Not that I ran into him this time, of course. Who could he be? And why did I behave in such a stupid manner? What a silly thing to say about his handkerchief.' She wandered about for a few more minutes and then went back to the house, hoping that she would not bump into him again. That would be just too embarrassing if it were to happen. She wondered again who he was and why he was visiting the parson, but when Ruth finally came out to join her, she thought it best to say nothing of the encounter. Ruth was not a bit like Sophie, of course, but she had received enough repercussions from that disclosure to take any more chances with anyone. Anyway, it would not do for her to show an interest in the gentleman; people always misunderstood those types of queries, and she was an engaged woman after all. Not that she was at all interested in him in that way. She wasn't some foolish romantic like Sophie Farquar. It would really have been better if Sophie had met him rather than her, because Sophie could have been depended on to fall in love with him, and then maybe she would stop her foolish pursuit of Lord Ralph. Thinking of Lord Ralph brought her back to the real world, and the realisation that Ruth was talking to her.

"Are you ready to go now, Emily, or are you planning to wander in the garden all morning?"

Emily gave her a shamefaced look. "I'm sorry. I have been in a daze for some reason. Do you want to drive the gig? You know where the cottages are that we are visiting."

"That is a sensible suggestion," said Ruth as they walked over to the gig. "What have you brought?" Ruth rifled through the basket after she jumped aboard the gig. "Good girl! This will all do very well. I am glad to see you did not bring any finery."

"I did not think it would be wanted; besides, the upper servants get it all, and make it over for themselves. I do not know where the housekeeper found these things, but they do look serviceable."

"I must warn you that you will see people living in conditions that you cannot yet even imagine," said Ruth as she turned the gig and guided Shadow down the country lanes.

James was about to go to the front door of the parsonage when he noticed the parson walking from the back of his house and through the churchyard gate, so he hurried along through the churchyard after him. He made his way past the lichen mottled headstones and knocked at the vestry door. Reverend Chesterton peeked his head out, and then opened the door wide.

"Come in, my son," he said with a welcoming smile on his face. "You must be Mr. James Warrington. Sir Edward told me you were coming to assist him. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Thank you, sir," answered James as he entered the small vestry. "I am happy to meet you as well. I understand you are the one who brought me to the attention of my uncle recently, and the result of that chance mention has been most fortuitous for me."

Reverend Chesterton motioned for James to sit in an oak armchair, and he took a seat opposite. "I have my own reason to thank you. You provided my pupil with a very nice curacy. If not for you he would now be making his rounds in the back slums of London, and while there is great need in such areas, my protégé is very happy to be in a snug parsonage in a prosperous country village."

"I am pleased to hear it. Ellendshall is a fine parish, and Mr. Grantham struck me as an honest and honourable man, eminently suited to be a country parson. I do hope they grant him the living."

"That is my hope too. Now, Mr. Warrington, I would like to hear of all your plans for Wortham," said Reverend Chesterton, lighting up a pipe.

James spent an hour with the affable parson, discussing proposed improvements and the people on the estate. When James broached the subject of making Robbie his assistant, the Reverend applauded the idea. He had always seen a great potential in the lad and he was quite willing to adjust his lesson time around the new schedule.

"It won't be long before he needs more than what I am able to teach, but I will do my best by him," said Reverend Chesterton reflectively, as if already planning what books he would need to add to his library to best prepare Robbie for future studies. "Now come up to the house with me, son, and I will introduce you to my family."

"I believe I have already met one of your daughters this morning," said James. "I bumped into a young lady in your garden."

"It could be that it was my eldest, Miss Ruth," said Mr. Chesterton as he led the way back up to the house. "My other two are still in the schoolroom, and not yet of an age to be considered young ladies."

He ushered James into the parlour and went in search of his wife. Five minutes later James found himself being introduced to a pleasant lady and four young children, two boys and two girls, ranging in age from fourteen to seven.

"I am very pleased to meet you," said Mrs. Chesterton in a mild voice. "These are my children, Laura, Susan, Peter, and Francis. My eldest daughter, Ruth, is visiting the parish poor."

The two young girls did their curtseys and looked at James with unfeigned interest. They were plainly dressed and solidly pretty, and they looked nothing like their older sister. They had nondescript mid-brown hair, and warm brown eyes. The boys were sturdy lads who soon began to fidget and squirm. The youngest looked at his mother and said, "Are lessons over mama? We have seen the gentleman; may we go out to play now?"

Mrs. Chesterton softly admonished her child for his incivility, but James laughed and said that he did not blame the boy for wanting to be released from the parlour. He turned to young Francis and said, "You would probably rather be down by the brook with a fishing pole."

"That I would," said the boy with an impish grin. "Or I could take old Rover out to hunt badgers!"

The older boy gave his brother a scornful look and said to James, "Frank can't hunt badgers with Rover! He's half-blind and doesn't know the difference between a badger and a barn cat. I'm training a young pup, Sniffer. Would you like to see him?"

"I'm helping train Sniffer too," said Francis, not to be outdone. "He belongs to both of us! Will you come Mr. . . . um, sir?"

James couldn't resist the two young boys, so he took his leave of Mrs. Chesterton and the two girls, and followed the boys through the back way to the kennel. The Reverend left them on the steps and returned to the church. James made the acquaintance of the old half-blind spaniel, and the new young pup. The older dog came up to have his head scratched, and the young one jumped all over James, licking his hands with his long tongue.

They walked out together down the lane, the young dog running in all directions, the older slowly trotting by little Francis' side. When they came to a likely spot in the mound at the foot of the hedgerow, the boys set to work trying to encourage the dogs to dig out a rabbit hole. After a few minutes James left the boys and continued along the lane in the direction of Wortham. He was smiling to himself, and shaking his head over the antics of both the boys and the dogs as he walked along the dusty lane. He broke a branch from a willow growing in the hedge, and slashed it at weeds as he walked along. Thinking of the boys soon brought him back to the sisters, and then naturally to the eldest sister, for who else but she could it have been in the garden that morning? For some reason his spirits were elated by the fact that the girl had turned out to be the parson's daughter. Why it should make any difference he did not know, except for the fact that he intended to visit Reverend Chesterton quite often. He was looking forward to seeing her again, and actually having a real conversation this time.

On their way back from their parish rounds, Emily and Ruth passed the two young boys where they still were encouraging their dogs to destroy the mound. At the house Emily changed places with Ruth, and then waited for Alice to come out and join her. The young maid was out quickly and hurried to climb into the gig. As Emily set Shadow off down the lane again, Alice expressed her effusive thanks.

"Oh Miss Emily! I am most grateful to you and Miss Ruth and Mrs. Chesterton. I had a lovely time with my lesson. Miss Laura and Miss Susan taught me to read some real words! I can read dog and cat and sit and stand and -- oh my, so many more words! I am sorry to be running on like this and boring you miss," she added, blushing furiously, "but it is so very exciting, and they were all ever so nice to me."

Emily was surprised that such a simple act on her part could have brought Alice such happiness. She had never seen the girl quite so lively. She smiled and told her that she was glad that she enjoyed the lesson, and that every time she accompanied her on her visits to Ruth Chesterton, the experience would be repeated. Alice lapsed into a blissful silence, and Emily was left to reflect on her experiences of the day.

Ruth had been right when she had told Emily that the living conditions would shock her. Emily had never seen such squalor close to. It was not just the dirt, but the stench of the humble cottages that was very difficult to endure. Young children ran about in dirty rags, with open sores and dripping noses. Old women lay in beds with tattered, soiled linen, and young mothers were slatternly and unkempt. In one home, the mother was ill in bed with a fever. The child she was nursing was wet and filthy and crying in her arms. The other four children were half-clothed and very dirty, squabbling over a ragged joint of meat on the middle of the kitchen table. The meat was fly-blown, and greyish.

Ruth had handed Emily the baby to wash and wrap in clean linen, while she had instructed the oldest child to throw the meat out to the dogs. Then she had taken each child in turn to be washed with bucket after bucket from the well, while Emily sat with the baby on the porch and tried to get her to swallow some of the pork jelly. Ruth got the mother up and out on the porch while she stripped the bed of its dirty coverings and remade it with the fresh, clean linens that Emily had brought. Emily felt very helpless. The stench was nauseating, and the whole situation of the family was pitiable. The woman's husband had not been home for five days. She weakly told Emily that when her husband returned, he would have spent all his money with nothing to show for it, and he would set out again almost immediately to try and earn more. When they finally left and were on the road back to the parsonage, Ruth told Emily that the mother, who Emily had thought to be quite an old woman she was so haggard, was their own age. Emily was overwhelmed by all that she had seen and done.

She had looked at Ruth and thought, ‘she is a saint. I could never do what she is doing!' and she felt again her inadequacies. It was as if she was just wandering adrift in a world where everything was happening around her. She had no control, and no choice, and it was just by the grace of God that she was betrothed to the richest man in the county, and not living in squalor with five children and a wastrel for a husband. If she had thought her life empty she had never thought it unbearable, and she knew now that though she was not happy, she was luckier than most.

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, James accompanied Lady Felicity and Sir Edward to church. Their pew was about mid-way up the aisle, on the right hand side, behind the pew that belonged to the Chesterton family. James nodded to Mrs. Chesterton as he took his place, and then looked to the girl at her side. He realised with some shock that it was not the girl that he had bumped into on those two occasions. The girl sitting beside Mrs. Chesterton was not quite as tall and slender, and she had a purposeful expression on her pleasant face. James sat back in some confusion. If this was Ruth Chesterton, and she very obviously was by the similarity of feature she shared with her mother, then who was it he had met? Since he had left the parsonage the day before, he had begun to think of her as the parson's daughter, and he had allowed himself to think of her quite a bit. He had to pull himself out of his reverie as the two young boys had turned and were trying to catch his attention. He gave them each a smile and a wink and then he let his eyes wander over the assembled congregation, searching to see if ‘his girl' was present.

Emily had been induced to wear one of her new gowns to the service. It was the dove grey silk, and the fabric had a beautiful sheen and drape that showed its quality even though the lines of the gown were quite simple and the skirt was decorated with nothing more than four rows of tucks some six inches from the bottom. The detailing on the bodice was covered by the deep, smoky green spencer, and she wore a bonnet of the palest green, with a silvery grey ribbon securing it beneath her chin. The Sidfords and the Prescotts sat together in the left front pew, Ralph and Emily side by side, flanked by their parents. Lady Prescott sat on the aisle in what she considered the best location in the church. The parson's pulpit was immediately before her, a little to the left, and she loved to sit and listen to his sermons as his resonant voice flowed around her.

James' eyes turned to the parson as he started the service, and soon he noticed the very grand personages in the front row. Without a doubt these were the premier residents of the community. His eye travelled along the row, from the very elegant lady at the aisle, to the tall, immaculately tailored young gentleman with a glowing head of golden curls. ‘There is someone to stop the young ladies' hearts,' he thought, ‘not a plain sort of fellow like me.' Beside him was an elegant looking lady in grey and green, her head turned the other way, toward the lady beside her who was dressed up to the nines in pale fuchsia with an abundance of lace and magenta feathers in her turban. At her side was a tall and distinguished looking gentleman of military bearing. James' eyes travelled back along the row again, and stopped, arrested, on the light green bonnet. There was something in the way the young lady held herself that was vaguely familiar, and James began to have a very sinking feeling. At that moment, as if he had willed it, she turned her head.

Emily was not one to look about in church. She always kept her eyes trained ahead: on the pulpit, the parson, the organist, the choir, the urns of flowers, the altar, or the large stained glass window, but she suddenly felt an unusual compulsion to turn her head, and without questioning the urge, she looked over her shoulder towards the middle of the congregation. Of all the faces looking forward attending the service, one face was looking in her direction, and their eyes caught and held. After a few moments, Emily recollected herself. She gave a brief nod of recognition, and the barest of smiles, and then looked forward once more. For the rest of the service she felt the urge to turn and look, to see if he was still looking at her, but she withstood it. After the service she was hard pressed to remember the topic of the sermon.

James was stunned. He had known it must be her, and yet when she turned and their eyes met, he was devastated. All the little fantasies that had been running through his head since he had seen her the day before came crashing down. When she broke the eye contact with a barely perceptible nod and slight smile, he did not have enough control of his faculties to respond. All this time he had been thinking that she was someone from a modest family, and here she was evidently one of the richest inhabitants of the neighbourhood. She was supremely above his touch. He felt bitter disappointment, and chastised himself severely for it. He did not even know her and probably never would, so why should it matter that she was wealthy? Why indeed!

James tried to pay attention to the sermon, but his eyes kept returning to that straight back, that pale green bonnet. He had been thinking of her as ‘his' girl; someone who might possibly be on equal footing with him, someone he could get to know, but she was not ‘his' girl at all. She was just a young lady he had chanced to meet, and if he should meet her again he would treat her with all the politeness and deference she was due; friendship was out of the question.

The service ended, and the parishioners began filing out by order of rank, front rows first. Emily had been used to this custom since she could remember, and had never even questioned it, but today it made her feel oddly uncomfortable. As she passed by the gentleman's pew she couldn't help herself, and she looked over at him. He smiled politely at her, but it was not with the open warmth she had received the day before. This smile did not reach his clear green eyes. Today they seemed cold and distant. Something had subtly changed and she did not understand how or why. As she moved on she wondered at the feeling of disappointment that coursed through her. Why should a stranger elicit such a response in her? Why should she care if his smile had been friendly or not? It all made no sense and she was determined to forget it.

She had looked at him, and he had done his best to acknowledge her politely, but smiling had been difficult with the tumult of thought that was going on inside him. Her expression had been impossible to read, and he had watched her leave the church with regret and a personal vow to stop thinking of her. A very difficult vow to keep.

When he had assisted his aunt and uncle from the church to join the parson on the porch, his eyes swept the churchyard but the entire group from the front pew was nowhere to be seen. He gave his attention to Reverend Chesterton who was introducing his daughter to him.

"Mr. Warrington, this is my daughter, Ruth," he said with a smile. "It appears she was not the young lady you met in my garden, for she informs me she has not had the pleasure of meeting you."

James smiled at Ruth and greeted her politely.

"I am pleased to finally meet you," said Ruth. "I think you must have met my friend Miss Emily Sidford, though it is unusual that she did not mention it to me."

James blushed slightly at this reference despite himself. Had there been some element of impropriety in that meeting? Why would she not have mentioned it to her friend?

"Oh yes, Miss Emily!" said the parson. "It must have been she, decidedly."

"Is she the young lady who was sitting in the front row?" asked James in as unconcerned manner as possible. "I believe that is the girl I bumped into in your garden yesterday."

"What's this?" cried Sir Edward. "Did you bump into another young lady? Are you making a habit of this young man? One young lady on Tuesday, and another on Saturday! Soon you will have made the acquaintance of all the young ladies in the neighbourhood in this manner! Felicity, what type of forward young man have we brought into our midst?" He laughed soundly at his jest, and James felt the colour rising in his cheeks once again.

"It was the same young lady both times," he admitted diffidently.

"Was it indeed? And why did you not tell us of this second meeting, hey?" Sir Edward winked at his wife. "It is a pity that it was Miss Sidford, though. I am afraid you will have to start all over again with some other young lady."

James looked at his uncle in embarrassment and confusion. It did not help that the parson was also laughing at his expense. Lady Warrington came to his rescue.

"Do not mind your uncle, James dear," she said warmly. "He can be quite a sad tease at times. It is just such a coincidence that you should have met Miss Sidford in the same unusual manner on two occasions."

"And, of course, young Miss Emily is quite unavailable," said Reverend Chesterton, still chuckling. "Do not take offence. Your uncle and I both know that you do not make a habit of bumping into young ladies in order to strike up an acquaintance!"

James attempted to compose his features and hide his embarrassment. It had come as such a shock to him. He had just been considering the exact same thing in church; that a girl of her stamp was completely out of his reach, and then to have it reinforced so soundly by both his uncle and the parson, even in jest, had thrown him for a loop. He was the younger son of a baronet, after all, even though he was a steward. Most people would have thought them in the same sphere. Most people did not have the same scruples as he did when it came to marrying for money; they thought impeccable family lines a fair exchange. Had becoming a steward really lowered him that quickly in the eyes of society? Well if it had, so be it. He did not care a scrap for society that judged people by position and money alone.

Ruth was watching James and could see that the whole exchange had troubled the young man more than it ought. As her father and Sir Edward chattered on she drew James aside and quietly said, "I hope you do not think me too bold, but I think some sort of explanation is in order."

James eyed her with interest and asked her to go on.

"I know you do not have any designs upon my friend," she said with no little embarrassment at mentioning such a subject to a relative stranger, "but there is something you must know about. She is engaged to be married to Lord Ralph Prescott, the gentleman who was standing beside her at church. They have been betrothed since birth."

James knew not what to say. Though he did not know Miss Emily at all, though she was obviously too wealthy for him to ever seriously consider, though he had sworn a vow to no longer think of her, he still felt a pang shoot through him at this news. What should it matter to him that she was engaged? He didn't even have any feelings for her. It was only the unusual circumstance of their two meetings that had sparked any interest. He had to be honest with himself, it was that, but it was also her eyes. Her eyes and her innocence. He knew if he kept along that track he would come up with even more reasons, so he stopped right there. He realised that he had been quiet for some time, and Miss Chesterton needed some sort of answer.

"Thank you for telling me. I was beginning to think that I was some sort of social . . . I mean that I was not . . . anyway, I wish them very happy. They make a handsome couple," he finished lamely. He did not think Miss Chesterton would make much sense of that, but he was not capable of anything more coherent. Her answer surprised him.

"I do not see how she can possibly be happy. Excuse my candour, but she is my good friend and I wish her well. I see no hope for her in that marriage. Her will shall be completely taken away . . . I ought not to have said that. Please forgive me."

"What you have told me only shows that you care deeply for your friend and are concerned for her. There is no need to apologise for that," said James, and his eyes reflected all the empathy of his voice. He longed to know more, to understand why Miss Chesterton did not like the match for her friend, but he knew he could not ask. He instead questioned her about the age of the church, and they talked of that lovely old building until his uncle and aunt were ready to be handed up into the carriage.

Chapter Eighteen

It had become a ritual to gather for tea at Wilverton after Church every Sunday. Not only did Emily and her family regularly attend, but also Sophie and her mother, and Sophie's elder brother Bertram. On this day the spinster, Miss Craddock was also invited. Elspeth Craddock lived in a large house in the village; she was a very well off, affable woman of middle years but her main virtue was that she was an excellent source of extremely reliable information. Today Lady Penelope was in need of information. It had not gone beyond her notice that an unknown young gentleman was sitting in the Warrington pew, and she wanted to discover all the particulars. The easiest way of doing this, short of accosting Sir Edward and asking him directly, was to ask Elspeth Craddock.

The young people sat a little off to the side of their elders, but their conversation revolved around the same theme. It appeared someone could not just unobtrusively move into the neighbourhood. The fact that he had been living amongst them since the preceding Sunday and had just come to their notice was highly disconcerting.

"It must be the very gentleman that Emily ran into!" exclaimed Sophie with sudden inspiration. "For you did stray onto Sir Edward's land! Was it he?" She directed her gaze at Emily.

"I believe it might have been," she said quietly.

"Might have been! What can you possibly mean by that? Either it was or it wasn't!" cried Sophie in exasperation.

"Well, I don't recall much about him," said Emily evasively.

"I remember you said he was ordinary. I didn't really get a good look at the gentleman in church, was he ordinary?" she asked, turning to her brother. "You were standing in my way and your great hulk spoiled my view of almost everybody, but you surely saw him!"

"Yes indeed I did, and he was, as you say, most particularly ordinary. But I am surprised at Miss Emily." He turned towards Emily and addressed her directly. "You must have a more decided opinion than that! I saw you looking at him in church." He gave her a very expressive look, and both Sophie and Lord Ralph turned their eyes on her intently as well.

"I turned around once and just happened to notice him," she said, her colour rising.

"You looked at him again on the way out," said Bertram, clearly enjoying the position he was putting Emily in. "I saw you."

"You seem to have spent an inordinate amount of time watching me," said Emily with uncharacteristic asperity.

"Oh Bertie!" said his sister, "Emily has found you out! He can't help himself Emily, he is head over heels in love with you."

Emily blanched, and Ralph turned on Bertram, his blue eyes glinting angrily. "You are what?"

Bertram turned a deep red. "Never mind Sophie, Lord Ralph. She is a trouble-maker. There's not an ounce of truth in what she says, I swear! I've never looked at Miss Emily like that a day in my life -- she's not my style. I go for high flyers!"

"Remember your company Bertie!" teased his sister.

"Not that Miss Emily isn't a prime one and you are a lucky buck to have her," said Bertram hurriedly.

Ralph gave his friend a withering look. "You're getting in even deeper Bertie."

"Sophie, could you please stop calling me Bertie! Now you've got Lord Ralph, here, doing it!"

"Neither of you are acting like gentlemen," said Sophie saucily. "Bertram, if you would please refrain from using cant phrases in polite society it would be appreciated."

"You see what a minx she is," said Bertram to Lord Ralph in frustration.

"Yes I do," said Ralph, looking at her with appreciation. She was such a fun girl. If only Emily had more spark. Still, Emily would make a good wife whereas Sophie . . . no, Sophie was a lady and he couldn't think of her like that.

"To get back to the point of our conversation," said Sophie, not one to lose her advantage, "you did get a good look at the gentleman in church, Emily, so how is it you are unsure if it was your assailant or not?"

"There was no assailant," said Emily resignedly. "As you very well know, I ran into him. And if it will put the matter to rest, yes, it was the same man. Now can we speak of something of more interest?"

"I find this subject very interesting," said Sophie. "Don't you, Lord Ralph?"

"I do wonder who the deuce the fellow is," Ralph said darkly.

Just then Lady Penelope interrupted, calling out to Ralph in her commanding voice.

"Ralph, you must indeed visit Mr. Warrington!"

"Who an earth is Mr. Warrington?"

"Have none of you been attending to Miss Craddock at all?" asked his mother. "He is grandnephew to Sir Edward. He has come to oversee his estate. At one time Maude and I were dear friends with his mother, so you really must visit him!"

"Lady Amelia was so beautiful when she was young, and Sir Arthur so very handsome," said Maude Sidford. "I wonder that their son has turned out to be so very unexceptional in his appearance."

"It has been known to happen," said Lady Penelope dryly.

Emily knew this barb was directed at herself, but her mother appeared to be completely oblivious. So she had bumped into Sir Edward's nephew, a perfectly respectable gentleman, as she had always known he must be because of his gentle and caring manner. Now the mystery was over and everyone would leave her alone about it. She was very glad that she hadn't told anyone about the second meeting.

"Mr. Warrington, son of Sir Arthur Warrington, hmm, he sounds more promising all the time!" exclaimed Sophie. She looked over to Lady Penelope and called out, "Is he the eldest son?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear," said Lady Penelope regretfully. "Apparently he is only the third son, and as it is the estate is worth only five thousand a year, if I recall correctly. James Warrington should not stand to get much at all."

"Oh, what a pity!" said Sophie. "But maybe he is Sir Edward's heir."

"Unfortunately not!" said Miss Craddock, happy to make James Warrington's circumstances known to the entire company. "The heir is Mr. Percival Braithwaite. No, Mr. James Warrington has no fortune whatsoever, sad to say. He was to go into the church, but in the end he decided to come and look after his uncle's estate. Possibly he has expectation of some sort of bequest. It must have been something, because I hear he gave up a very valuable living to our own Mr. Grantham. Do you remember him, my dear?"

Sophie certainly remembered serious young Mr. Grantham, but she was completely uninterested in him. "No fortune of any sort! I am disappointed. I was starting to have such hopes for him. Well, there is nothing else for it, of course. He must marry for money!"

"Sophie!" cried Emily in dismay. "Can you just let the poor man be!" She was becoming rankled the way everyone was going on and on about Mr. Warrington's lack of fortune and the insinuations that his interest in helping his uncle was only for hopes of a large bequest. She knew nothing of him, but he did not appear to be a fortune hunter.

"Poor man! Isn't that the truth of it: no money at all! Well, I am relieved that he is not handsome or I might have found myself in danger of making a very foolish match somewhere along the line," announced Sophie, laughing at her own wit.

"I don't doubt that whenever you do marry it shall be a foolish match, Mr. Warrington or not," said Bertram smugly.
Lord Ralph instantly came to Sophie's defence. "With your looks and charm, Miss Sophie, I am sure you will do very well for yourself."

Sophie simpered and Bertram snickered, but Emily just turned her head and sighed. This was her life and she just must accept it. She looked over to her aunt Letty who gave her an encouraging smile. ‘She is the one person who can remotely understand how I feel, and even she does not know the half of it. But at least it is reassuring to have her comforting presence in my life,' thought Emily, sitting straighter and giving her aunt a small smile to show her that all was well.

"Emily dear," called out Lady Penelope. "Would you like to oblige us with some music now? I long to hear your new piece."

It wasn't a request but a command, and Emily was happy to oblige. She would much rather be playing, even though they should all talk right through her performance. At least she would not have to take part in the conversation any longer. She was also sure that once she was occupied at the instrument Sophie's behaviour would improve without having her there to provoke.

The conversation at Wortham Lodge was directed upon much the same subject as that of Wilverton, but regarding the other participant of the unexpected encounters. No matter that James tried two or three times to steer the conversation away from Emily Sidford and her fiancé, he could not seem to get anybody's mind off the subject; it always returned full circle to them.

"I do wonder what she was doing out in the lanes the first time you met her?" said Lady Felicity. "Barstow Hall is well on the other side of the village."

"She was picking brambles," said James resignedly.

"Yes, of course. But why there? She must have been with Sophie Farquar; she could not possibly have been alone," said his aunt. "Did you see Miss Farquar at church today?"

"I'm afraid I saw a great many people, and I can't really recall who was who," said James.

"A pretty lass," said his uncle.

"Yes she is," said Lady Felicity, "but though I really do not know either girl at all, I must say that Miss Sidford strikes me as being a much more interesting girl. Though she is no beauty there is something about her that is very appealing. Reverend Chesterton has nothing but praise for her, though I do not know that I approve of this betrothal business."

James looked up, his interest sparked. Ruth had said something about the match not being good for Emily Sidford, and now his aunt was questioning it as well. "How so, Aunt Felicity?"

"Well, you see they were betrothed at birth by their mothers. It was some sort of pact to join the properties. It is not for me to judge my neighbours but I am an advocate of love matches." She looked at her husband at this point and he gave her a fond smile. "I know it is still well thought of in the ton to arrange marriages, but how can you be sure two people will suit and be happy together when they are promised to each other before even their interests and their characters are known?"

"But it is a very good match for her my dear," said Sir Edward, "and we do not know that she is not happy with it. They do look very well together!"

"I know, my dear," said Lady Felicity. "I suppose I am just putting myself in their place. I would not have liked it at all."

"Nor I," said Sir Edward, "but they have grown up with the idea. It may be just as natural for them as breathing, and think of all the uncertainty they will not have to go through." He laughed softly.

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.

Next

Back

Back To Novel Idea