A Matter of Choice
Chapter Nineteen
The week was an exceptionally busy one for James. He was out in the fields at dawn and didn't return to Wortham Lodge until the sun had gone down in fiery splendour, silhouetting the Malvern Hills on the skyline. Two reaping crews had been hired, one to bring in the hay crop and the other for the barley and wheat. James had given Robbie Turnbull the supervision of the barley harvest, while he had hired Mr. Turnbull's cousin as foreman for the hay harvest.
Jake Hunter was another victim of enclosure. He had given up farming other people's land to work in the cotton mills up north, but had not been able to make the adjustment to town life. Operating big looms was not for him. The whirr of the shuttle flying along the race, the constant banging of the beater, the rhythmic clanking of the treadles and harnesses, all in an enclosed space caused him to long for the fresh open air, the swish of the scythe and the song of the reapers as they harvested a field. He had returned this fall to try his luck at farming again, and hoped that soon his family would be able to follow him. Their lodgings in the mill town were cramped and the town itself was overcrowded and a hotbed for disease with its poor sanitation. He had just begun helping his cousin with the harvest, but the chance to have charge of his own crew was the opportunity he was looking for.
The hay crop had been a worry for James. It was late to harvest but they were in luck with the weather so far. James needed an experienced man who knew how to make good hay. It must not be over-dried or allowed to get damp, over hardened or broken. It took judgment and experience to understand just how much time to allow for light heating in the rick to cure the hay effectively. To have a man who was experienced in all this was a godsend to James. Besides the great cash value of the hay, it was needed for feeding the livestock over the winter. The yield was not going to be all that good this year, but next year he would plant shorter, thicker growing grasses.
James spent his time going from field to field, supervising all the operations. The knowledge that he brought to the endeavour was indispensable, but he was learning still more just from actually being on the land, talking with the farmers and labourers, and overseeing the whole. By Thursday he had seen enough to know that Mr. Hunter would be an invaluable employee to have on a year round basis, and he offered him permanent employment, along with a house for himself and his family. Jake Hunter thought the vacant steward's house a little grand for the likes of them, but he knew a good offer when he heard it, so he accepted with alacrity. Plans were set in place for his family to come as soon as possible, and the house was aired out and made ready.
That evening James returned home exhausted and dirty to find that he had a visitor waiting on him in the drawing room. He hurried to his room, and quickly washed with cold water that refreshed him, then changed into evening attire. He entered the drawing room barely ten minutes later to be formally introduced by his uncle to none other that Lord Ralph Prescott. Lord Ralph was slightly taller than himself, his blonde curls were arranged in a Byronic tumble, and it was more than evident that he frequented the best tailors in London. The apparently casual folds of his neck-cloth James knew at a glance were not the work of a moment as his own hurriedly tied attempt was.
"Most pleased to meet you," said Lord Ralph, stretching out his hand.
James shook it warmly and said all that was polite. He looked Lord Ralph over with no little interest. So this was to be Miss Emily Sidford's husband. He was reminded of the many shallow peers that he had met at Oxford and in London who were so sure of their own worth that they could be jovially friendly to those who they considered beneath them. James hoped that deep down he was a good, steady sort of man.
"M'mother tells me she was a great friend of your mother's back when they had their season," continued Lord Ralph. "She insisted I come and make your acquaintance, and so I have."
"I will be sure to tell my mother when I next write," said James.
"So you have come to oversee your uncle's estate for him. I was just telling Sir Edward that he is lucky indeed that you would give up your pleasures to help him out."
"I am giving up nothing," said James. "My uncle's request came as an answer to my dreams. This is just the type of situation I had hoped for."
"That is surely coming on too brown!" said Lord Ralph with a laugh. "Why, I'm positive you would rather be shooting moor hens on your estate in Huntingdon! You should come out and shoot with me sometime. We could get old Bertie Farquar and make a threesome!"
"Thank you for the invitation, but I am afraid that the affairs of the estate are too pressing just now," said James attempting to interject a little regret he did not feel into his tone. "I am at present in the middle of a harvest that was started too late. It keeps me busy from dawn until dusk."
Lord Ralph blenched at the very idea of working from dawn until dusk. "How very unfortunate. But can you not get the steward to handle all that nonsense? My steward is so thorough that I barely have to attend to any of that sort of business, short of going over all the endless records with him every quarter. We have better things to spend our time on. Why, there are the races next week in Worcester. You're not to miss those are you?"
"I'm afraid I shall; you see, I am the steward."
"You the steward?" cried Lord Ralph in a shocked voice. He stood for a minute dumbfounded and then he began to laugh. "You are roasting me!"
"Not at all, I am my uncle's steward."
"That is to say," interjected Sir Edward, "James has taken on the duties of a steward. He is not my steward, he is my nephew and a great help to me. I don't know what I should have done without him."
"But uncle, I really do consider myself your steward," said James, turning to Sir Edward. "I am not ashamed to admit it."
"And there is no shame in it, dear boy," said Lady Felicity. "But you see, Sir Edward and I consider you our dear relation and manager of the estate. You are not an employee, you are acting in the capacity of Sir Edward himself. When your uncle brought Colhaven to rights he did just as you are doing now, working long and hard days amongst the labourers, and he felt a great deal of pride in it."
"So that settles it," said Lord Ralph. "You may call yourself a steward all you want, but that does not make you one. My mother would not invite a steward to dine with us, but she has extended an invitation to you, and of course yourselves," he said, including Sir Edward and Lady Felicity in his gaze. "Would you be able to come to us this Saturday? There will be cards to follow and possibly some dancing if we can get enough couples together. I hope we may or it shall be a rather dull affair. What say you?"
James could see that for his brash superior attitude, Lord Ralph was good-natured. Possibly he didn't realise that part of his invitation was offensive. He probably didn't spend an inordinate amount of time considering other people's feelings, but rather said whatever came into his head without thinking at all.
"Why that is very gracious of Lady Penelope to invite us as well," said Lady Felicity. "We cannot promise that we will be able to come; it will depend on Sir Edward's health that day and the coolness of the evening. If we are able to come we will not stay late, as that would be quite impossible for Sir Edward to manage. Of course James is not hindered by our decision at all. He is his own man and is free to come and go as he pleases and stay out as late as he likes."
She smiled at James encouragingly. It was obvious she wanted him to accept the invitation. He felt much inclined to accept it, too, despite the uncivil reference to Lady Prescott not inviting stewards to dine. James was not one to be offended easily, and it was no doubt perfectly true that Lady Prescott would not invite a steward to a dinner party at her house. Stewards were not usually in the same sphere. After all, James' own mother would hardly invite a steward to dine. James thought of all he would have to attend to on Saturday, and which of his duties might be shouldered by Robbie and Mr. Hunter to enable him to leave the fields early, and he made his decision.
"Tell Lady Prescott that I would be delighted to accept her invitation."
"Well that's settled then. I'll have to see whom else we can unearth to make up the party. My fiancée Emily Sidford will be there, of course, and Bertram and Sophie Farquar, and all the older people, but we will need a few more young people if we are to manage to dance. Thank you, Sir Edward for the very fine claret. A right good bottle that. I'll have to get some for my own cellar."
Lord Ralph was quick to leave after his mission had been accomplished. James saw him to the door and then returned to the drawing room and his aunt and uncle. He did not add much to the conversation, and after a light meal that Lady Felicity insisted upon, he took himself off early to bed. Though he was extremely tired, sleep did not come soon. He could not get his mind off Lord Ralph and his invitation. James was not sure if accepting had been wise, and yet he did not see how he could have politely refused. The worst part of it was that his desire to go was strong, though he knew mixing with such company was not advisable for a man in his situation. It was better if he confine his circle to the Turnbull's and the Chestertons, and maybe some other gentleman farmer of the district.
Deep down, though he had promised himself not to think of her, he knew the real reason that he wanted to go. Why should he be interested in furthering an acquaintance with a young lady who was already betrothed? Conversely, why should the betrothal really pose a problem? He had no interest in marriage now or in the near future. Just because he was interested in knowing more of her did not mean that his interest led in that direction. He wanted to know Ruth Chesterton better too. There was no reason why he shouldn't become acquainted with anyone he chose.
The hoot of the owl sounded across the stillness of the night, but James did not hear it. The moonlight that drifted through his open window touched the curve of his cheek with a soft light; his even breathing whispered through the shadows of the room.
On Saturday morning, Emily rose to greet the dawn. She was not usually such an early riser, but sleep had fled before the sky had even begun to pale, and she was weary of rolling about in her bed trying to return to her dreams. Streaks of light were beginning to stretch across the horizon as she dressed in a simple gown and her old brown pelisse. She brushed her hair vigorously, and twisted it in a plain knot at the base of her neck. ‘That should do,' she mused, ‘for who would there be to see me?' She slipped out through the back of the house, aware of cook shuffling about in the kitchen, and was careful not to let the door bang. The outbuildings loomed in the dark, casting deep shadows along the yard. She walked past the stables and out onto the open meadow, her eyes on the sky. Few sunrises were in her experience and she meant to miss nothing of this one.
The September morning was fresh and cool but not chilly. She sat on the slope of a small rise and gazed to the east. The meadow stretched in the growing light. Distant trees rose up to meet the horizon. A pink blush spread across the sky and deepened with every breath that Emily took. The deep slate of the sky paled to the lightest blue as it met the onslaught of orange and salmon and rose. Brilliant fire filtered through the trees and suddenly broke free of them. First a crescent, it grew steadily to a perfect globe that burnt her eyes with its brightness. She felt an indescribable feeling welling up inside of her that sent her running headlong down the gentle slope of the meadow, arms outstretched. She arrived at the hedgerow, breathless, gasping in wonder at the unfamiliar sensation that filled her. It could only be joy.
Emily was not yet ready to go back to the house and curb her enjoyment in the proper behaviour of a correct young miss. She climbed the stile and set to walking up the lane, towards the rustic old bridge that spanned the river. Chaffinches were singing in the hedgerows; starlings answered loudly in the elms. Bands of colour slashed across the sky, ever paling as she walked along, coral turned rose petal pink, apricot muted to tinted cream. The powder blue of the sky increased in its brilliance. She would only go to the bridge to look at the river and then turn back.
James awoke filled with restless tension. The sun was just coming up, painting the sky in the ever-changing hues of daybreak. He decided to go for a swift ride before joining the harvest; something to settle the unease that pervaded his spirit. As he saddled Sophocles he wondered what was causing this anxiety that he had woken with. The harvest was going well. The weather had held and all predictions were for an unseasonably dry fall. There was only one thing that could be bothering him, and that was foolish.
He had never been overly fond of social functions, but James had always been at ease and comfortable in any social setting. Even that deplorable evening at his brother's house had not filled him with this type of apprehension. Was it really bothering him that he would be entering this new social circle on such a tenuous footing? Did he really feel that he no longer belonged among the society that he was born to, or was it something else entirely? Was he worried about meeting Miss Sidford? He had to admit he was unsure how to approach her, given their last two very unconventional meetings. Would she have told anyone about them? Should he admit to having already met her?
He set Sophocles galloping along the empty lanes, relishing the feel of the wind on his forehead, tangling his hair. The beauty of the morning struck him as the brilliant hues of dawn faded to delicate tints. A low mist clung to the meadows. In a few weeks they would be rimed with frost, and the harvest would be done. James turned down a lane that led to an old stone bridge. He would just go as far as the river and then turn back. He needed to eat a hearty breakfast before his long day in the fields.
Emily looked up from the dark water to see a horseman riding quickly towards her in the lane. From this distance she could not make out the rider, but as he came increasingly nearer, there was something that struck her as familiar in his bearing. Suddenly he slowed, as if he had just become aware of her presence, or perhaps with the same intent as she: to stop on the bridge and look down upon the river. The closer he came the more certain she was of his identity, and she had time to prepare herself for her meeting with him, unlike the previous two occasions that they had met.
When the bridge came into view, James became aware of a figure standing on it, a woman, and he slowed Sophocles so as not to startle her. She was watching his approach, and before he was much closer he realised that, as unlikely as it may seem, it was Miss Emily Sidford who stood on the bridge in the early morning light, calmly waiting for him to reach her. As his horse's hooves met the stone of the bridge, he reigned in and dismounted.
"Good morning Miss Sidford," said James, at the same time running his free hand through his unruly locks in an attempt to appear more presentable. He noticed that she was dressed as he was used to seeing her, in simple, older clothes and it set him much more at ease with her.
"Good morning Mr. Warrington," Emily replied in a cool collected voice. She would not allow herself the vanity of reaching for her own hair to tidy it. The mad run across the meadow had severely loosened the quick knot she had pinned at the nape of her neck. She decided the best course of action would be to pretend that there was nothing amiss with her appearance at all and hope that her disarray was not noticeable in the uncertain light.
"I had certainly not expected to meet anyone this early, least of all you," said James, suddenly blushing at the apparent familiarity of his statement. Luckily Miss Sidford seemed in no way disconcerted by what he had said.
"I am not usually up this early, to be sure," she said, "and especially not out in the lanes on my own. I . . . I was tempted out by the beauty of the sunrise."
"Do you often watch the sunrise?"
"I cannot remember the last time I saw the sun rise. I confess I am usually sound asleep in my bed."
"My work brings me out this early daily," said James, "so I often have the pleasure, but that does not diminish my enjoyment of the beauty of the morning sky."
"Your work?" asked Emily. She could not comprehend what sort of work a gentleman would be doing that would necessitate rising early. Her experience with her father and Lord Ralph had taught her that gentlemen did little work, if any, and were not prone to rising early unless travel or propriety demanded it.
"I manage my uncle's estate," said James, and then he decisively took the plunge. "I am his steward." He looked at Emily intently to try to gage her reaction.
"And what type of duties necessitate your rising so early?" she asked.
From what James could tell there was no sort of shock, horror, or distaste in her demeanour. The only emotion she indicated was mild interest. "Now is the time of the harvest, and I supervise the crews of reapers in my uncle's fields, but all the year there is work to be done early on an estate such as this - on any farm for that matter."
She looked a little pensive and then answered slowly. "I had never even - I had not realised that all the work started so early in the day. To tell you the truth, I had not thought of it at all."
"It is not something you have need to think of," said James.
"Is it not?" She gave him a direct look, her eyes hard to read in the deep shadows cast by the early morning sun. "Sometimes I wonder if I know anything of value at all."
James looked at her, not knowing what to say. She had sounded so forlorn. "You cannot possibly know all that happens outside your own sphere, but that doesn't reduce the value of the knowledge you do posses."
Emily gave him a wan smile. "Thank you. You have a very beautiful horse," she said, stepping towards the animal as she changed the subject.
"He was a gift from my father. I call him Sophocles."
"May I pat him, or is he one of those highly strung animals, like Lord Ralph rides?"
"He has a wonderful disposition," said James as he brought Sophocles closer so she could stroke his neck. The mention of Lord Ralph had caused him to remember the time and the place. If Lord Ralph were to ride up now, what would he think of James Warrington conversing alone on the bridge with his fiancée? "I must bid you good morning, Miss Sidford. I am expected at the hay field shortly."
"I must return home too," said Emily suddenly recollecting herself. "It was a pleasure to talk with you, Mr. Warrington."
"The pleasure was all mine," he said softly as he mounted Sophocles and turned the horse back in the direction he had come.
Emily stood and watched him for a moment and then she turned and hurried back towards Barstow Hall. What anyone at home would say about her morning encounter she could not imagine, but she could not see that there was anything so really wrong in it. Mr. Warrington had appeared to think it not out of the common way, and she had not once felt uncomfortable in his presence. It was strange that she kept meeting him while she was on her own. Well really, if one thought about it, it was not so very strange. He was merely going about his own business, and she was really doing nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe walking in the lane at sunrise was out of the ordinary, and also running wildly in the hedgerows, but walking in Ruth's garden was above reproach. She sighed. He must think her quite unprincipled. And for the ordinary man that he appeared, he was indeed quite different from any other gentleman of her acquaintance. He actually employed himself -- The only other gentleman whom she knew who did that was the Reverend Chesterton.
When Emily let herself into the house, it was a hive of activity. Maids were bustling about with brooms and coal shuttles, and the footmen were polishing silver and laying the tables. She received one or two surreptitious glances as she made her way through the corridors and up to her room. When she got there she set about dressing in a manner more acceptable to her mother, all the while wondering what more there was to daily life of which she was completely unaware.
Meanwhile James was wholly engrossed by thoughts of Miss Sidford and how she had looked standing on the old stone bridge in the early morning light. Her hair had been almost loosed, softly curving about her face. She had seemed so composed and serious the whole time, in contrast to her slightly dishevelled appearance. There had been something most touching about her statement that she wondered if she knew anything of value. He had felt such an urge to talk to her, to find out if she shared his beliefs about what was important in the world, and then she had mentioned Lord Ralph and reminded him that they were poles apart. It was provident too because he could ill afford to be distracted from his duties. After breakfasting and then ensuring that all was well with his reaping crews, he was to go into town to find a corn factor that would give them a fair and honest price for their grain. He had no trust of the merchants Pooley had employed, so it was to Greater Malvern he would go to inspect granaries and storehouses, and enquire into carrier's rates. He hoped he could handle the business expediently because there was Lady Prescott's dinner to attend in the evening. Oddly enough he no longer felt any anxiety about appearing at that function.
"My dear Emily I am glad to see you are not wearing some fright of a gown,"
said Lord Ralph in greeting as Emily entered the drawing room. "The colour is
somewhat sombre though."
"Emily looks very elegant," said Lady Prescott coming forward to kiss her cheek. "You really know nothing about ladies' fashions Ralph, so you have no ability to judge at all."
"I think it would look much prettier if it were yellow, that's all," said Ralph.
Emily was quite content with the slate blue of her taffeta. The powder blue ribbons that trimmed it were also threaded through her dark hair. Alice had spent hours trying to coax curls into it with hot irons, and Emily hoped for the poor girl's sake that her hair was not too limp before the evening was out. Alice had been so proud of her efforts.
"Lord Ralph, I can't but agree with you," effused Mrs. Sidford. "Pale yellow with quantities of Spanish lace would be just the thing! And little rosebuds scattered in her hair! Don't you think her curls most becoming?"
Lord Ralph looked back at Emily; he hadn't made note of her hair before, but it did appear to be arranged differently. "They make you look almost pretty," he said in a surprised tone. "I shall feel proud to have you on my arm tonight."
"Emily is indeed in the best of looks," said Lady Prescott. "I have often told her that if she follows my instruction she will always appear to advantage. Dress, style, and poise do so much to make up for a lack of true physical beauty."
"Instead of standing here speaking of Emily as if she weren't even in the room," said Letitia Sidford, "Can you not let us know who is to be joining us tonight? I hear you have a large gathering planned."
The General agreed with his sister as they all sat. He said that it was about time they talked about something other than Emily's appearance or the girl would get a swelled head. The other guests were to arrive shortly, and as well as the Warringtons and the Farquars, they were to be joined by Reverend Chesterton, his wife, and Ruth Chesterton, a Mr. George Lampton and his sisters Miss Anastasia and Miss Cordelia, and Geoffrey Billingsworth. Ralph had decided that five couples would be ample for an enjoyable evening, and besides, he was not about to sink as low as to invite the Hammersmiths or the Colthards, who had not quite managed to rid themselves of the smell of the shop.
The Farquars arrived at the same time as Geoffrey Billingsworth, and Sophie was able to make her entrance already having captivated that inarticulate young gentleman. She was dressed in primrose yellow, the skirt of her gown all ruched and dotted with bows. The neckline was almost low enough to be daring, with a brooch of pearls pinned at the nadir of her frilly décolletage. Her curls were a froth of burnished gold, threaded with pearls. She smiled sweetly at the gathered company and batted her eyelids in Lord Ralph's direction. He had been slouched languidly in an armchair by the fire, but upon her entrance he sat up straight, his well-formed torso showing to better advantage in this posture. Mr. Billingsworth followed close behind Sophie, gasping for breath with his fish-like mouth and trying desperately to formulate a sentence with which to address her.
Emily looked at Sophie and sighed. It was uncanny how the girl was aware of Lord Ralph's tastes and made every effort to attract him. It all really seemed so pointless and futile when his future had already been decided for him by his mama. She wondered, momentarily, what her life would have been like if she had not been betrothed throughout the course of it, when the Warringtons were announced. As James Warrington entered the room, she looked up at him, and her eyes held his in a silent appeal that he should make no mention of their morning meeting. He smiled at her reassuringly, and proceeded to make a circuit of the room for introductions.
"And this is my son's fiancée, Miss Emily Sidford," said Lady Prescott when they had finally got around to her.
James bowed and Emily grasped the opportunity to quickly say, "You probably don't recognise me, but I am the girl who ran into you by chance last week. I was dressed quite a bit differently on that occasion."
James looked into her grey eyes. "I remember you very well, Miss Sidford. I was also fortunate enough to see you in church on Sunday. It is a pleasure to be introduced to you." James hoped that his uncle would say nothing of the second meeting, for it was evident that Miss Sidford had not made mention of it to her family and friends. It was coincidental that she had made reference to him possibly not recognising her because, upon entering the room he initially hadn't until her eyes had made contact with his. It was true, he was unused to seeing her in all her finery, but not only that, her hair was curled and it made her look quite different. Artificially so, as if this were another person in her stead, all except for her candid gaze. Her eyes affected him in such a way that was better not to explore, or even think about.
Lady Prescott went on to introduce him to Geoffrey Billingsworth who stammered something unintelligible, and then to a very pretty young girl who, quite evidently, understood her own attractions. So this was Sophie Farquar.
After the introductions had been made, Sophie laughingly said, "I have been just dying to meet you, Mr. Warrington! Emily was so discomposed by her escapade you would not believe! She could not tell me a thing about you, the silly girl, so you can imagine the picture I conjured up in my head! I will never forget how completely dishevelled she was when she came running back. What you must have thought of her I cannot imagine!"
"I found nothing lacking in her appearance," said James, "I was mostly concerned that I had distressed Miss Sidford in some way. It is no wonder she was startled. I'm sure she did not expect anyone to be in that field."
"Oh la, Mr. Warrington. You are such a diplomat. Own that her gown was all stained and her hair in disarray. You must remember that I was there also, so I do know the truth of it!"
"Then, Miss Farquar, you must know, as I do, that there was reason for Miss Sidford's hair to be untidy, her gown to be stained, and for her to be flustered. There is no need to censure her for it."
"So quick to jump to her defense, Mr. Warrington! I see my friend has made an impression on you," said Sophie with a mischievous grin. "I think you and I shall deal extremely well. We can support each other in our respective causes."
James was unsure just what Sophie was alluding to, so he only smiled rather stiffly in answer.
"What are you plaguing Mr. Warrington about, Sophie?" asked her brother. "Give the poor fellow some peace. He is not accustomed to your teasing ways."
The conversation became general as the rest of the guests arrived. James found himself beside Ruth Chesterton and started up quiet discussion with her about her work in the parish. He found her to be intelligent and sensible, with a heart devoted to helping the unfortunate. Emily was across the room, talking to the two young girls who had been the last to arrive. They were both dressed in pale muslins, neither as elegant as Emily nor as flamboyant as Sophie. Every so often he could hear their light laughter mingled with snatches of conversations that were taking place all about the room. Sir Edward was ensconced by the fire, with his friend Reverend Chesterton at his side, clearly enjoying his rare outing. Lord Ralph and the three other young gentlemen were vigorously discussing the upcoming race day in Worcester, and Sophie was ineffectually attempting to capture Ralph's attention. The ladies had formed their own group and were busy assessing the raiment of every other guest.
At dinner James found himself seated almost at the head of the table, to the right of Lady Prescott and beside Mrs. Sidford. Emily was all the way at the other end of the table beside her fiancé. Sophie was between Sir Edward and General Sidford about mid-way down the table; she looked a bit put out at first, but was soon softened by the evident admiration of the two older gentlemen.
"Your mother was our dearest friend," said Lady Prescott to James. "Unfortunately we lost track of her after her marriage. Dear Amelia, how has she fared all these years?"
"Oh yes, do tell us all about your dear mother!" said Maude Sidford.
"My mother is well, thank you," said James. "I believe she has been very content at Huntsfield. My parents have enjoyed a happy marriage."
"I am so pleased to hear that!" said Lady Prescott.
"And your father?" asked Maude Sidford. "I remember him so well. He was so very handsome!"
"My father has been an invalid these last five years. A fall from his horse . . ."
"Oh do not say so!" cried Maude Sidford cutting him off. "He was always so vital, so strong!"
"I'm terribly sorry," said Lady Prescott. "I know what it is like to suffer, I lost my dear Lord Prescott ten years ago. At least your mother did not have to endure that."
"Oh, no indeed," cried Maude Sidford.
"My father bears his injury well, and my mother is content with her quiet life at his side," said James.
"And your brothers and sisters?"
James found that neither lady would be content until he had laid his whole family history before them. He bore no illusions that they really had been very dear friends of his mother's; his mother would have found their company just as grating as he did himself, but he was a good guest and he gratified their every wish. It surprised him that a passing acquaintance could inspire such interest.
"And now, here you are assisting Sir Edward in his time of need," said Lady Prescott in conclusion. "I hear you gave up a prosperous living to come to his aid."
"I did not only come here as a favour to my uncle," said James, looking directly into Lady Prescott's sharp eyes. "I decided against taking orders before I knew of his need. It was my wish to become a steward."
Lady Prescott was momentarily taken aback. Maude Sidford gasped audibly, looked at James in consternation, and then rallied as understanding dawned.
"You young people enjoy teasing so!" she exclaimed. "Wished to become a steward indeed! How droll! You almost had taken me in!"
"But I really am a steward," said James earnestly.
"Young man!" said Lady Prescott sternly. "I will not accede to this manner of talk! You are the son of Sir Arthur Warrington, and grandnephew to Sir Edward. What you suggest is inconceivable! You are no steward, sir!"
"But I perform the duties of a steward daily," said James adamantly.
"That may be," said Lady Prescott. "And it is exemplary that you have come to Sir Edward's rescue! I am told his former steward was a scoundrel. He is well rid of him, and when you have sorted out all his affairs, I am assured you will hire a trustworthy man."
James was about to interject, but Lady Prescott held up her hand to forestall him. "We will say no more on that head."
For the rest of the dinner they discussed music, that is too say, Lady Prescott issued a lecture on the best composers of the day, and Maude Sidford agreed ingratiatingly with her every opinion. James showed much more attention than he actually paid. His eye kept travelling to the far end of the table, and once or twice he actually caught Emily Sidford glancing in his direction.
After dinner the ladies withdrew to the drawing room and left the gentlemen to their port. James moved to sit by his uncle.
"How are you holding up, sir?" he asked.
"Tolerably well, thank you," said Sir Edward, "but I do think one rubber of whist will be enough for me. As you know I go out so very seldom; this gathering has been very enjoyable for me, but tiring also. I am pleased I was able to come because my dear Felicity always insists on not attending without me and is more often than not denied the pleasure of being in company. How did you enjoy the dinner, James? Was it not a splendid repast?"
James had not really paid much attention to the food, and the splendour and finery of the table settings did little to impress him. He truly felt that he had enjoyed his dinner with the Turnbulls to a much greater extent. Lord Ralph called his attention, and he joined the other young men in a discussion of Gentleman Jackson's pugilistic prowess, which grew into a debate regarding the comparative merits of those ‘men of science' - Tom Cribb, Mendoza, and Belcher. James was not that interested in the finer points of sparring, but he had been dragged along to both the green ring at Mousley Hurst and Fives Court by fellow Oxford scholars, so he was able to hold his own in the conversation.
In the drawing room, the ladies were chatting together in small groups. As Emily walked past her mother she chanced to overhear her talking animatedly with Mrs. Farquar.
"I found it singularly uncivil of that young man to insist that he was a steward, right there in Penelope's dining room!"
"That is most shocking!" responded Mrs. Farquar. "I thought he was a gentleman."
"He is!" said Maude. "He is one of that sort. His mother was just such a one, always showing pride in doing something quite beneath her. She could have married someone with more than five thousand pounds, you know, but she latched onto Sir Arthur and would not let him go."
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Farquar. "I hear he was very handsome."
Maude Sidford nodded fervently and continued upon her dissertation of how this young man had not his father's looks or even anything approaching his father's expectations, which she had already disparaged. Emily blushed at her mother's outspokenness, and glanced over to where Lady Warrington was sitting with her aunt Letty, hoping that she had not overheard. Her aunt looked up at that moment and beckoned for her to join them. Emily stayed in conversation with the two older ladies until the gentlemen arrived.
The card players repaired to the card room as the footmen moved aside furniture to make room for the dancing. Letitia Sidford offered her services at the pianoforte, thus making it possible for all the young girls to dance. The first set Lord Ralph led Emily to the floor, and James asked Ruth Chesterton. Geoffrey Billingsworth was about to ask Miss Sophie to dance, when Mr. Lampton said he was damned if he would dance with one of his sisters, and lead her to the floor. Bertram Farquar danced with Miss Cordelia, and Mr. Billingsworth was left with Miss Anastasia, who was not too pleased to be either the last chosen or Mr. Billingsworth's partner. Letitia Sidford played a number of country-dances and Scottish reels, as the couples danced with informal gaiety. As each set formed there was always some confusion as both gentlemen that had sisters refused to be partnered with them. James found himself dancing invariably with one or other of the Lampton sisters. One set he was about to stand up again with Cordelia, when Bertram Farquar came up and traded his sister Sophie for her.
"La! I have been hoping to dance with you all evening," said Sophie, smiling up at James as he led her to the floor. "You must learn to be more forward in your applications. Lord Ralph has beat you to my hand twice, but I contrived to stay by my brother's side this time hoping for just such an outcome."
James was afraid that Miss Farquar was flirting with him, and he was unsure what type of game she was playing. "I am pleased to be able to dance with you," he said, noncommittally.
"I have heard a rumour that you have shocked the polite world by stating that you are a steward!" She looked at him playfully.
"And do you think it is so very shocking?" he asked.
"If it were true, yes! Imagine -- Lady Prescott inviting a steward to dine! But I know it is all a hum."
"It is the plain truth," said James, looking at her levelly.
"The plain truth is that you are Sir Edward's nephew and you have a very mischievous personality! I am most diverted! I told you that we should get along famously. What think you of Ruth Chesterton? Is she not pretty? Or do you prefer Miss Cordelia? You have danced with her twice. She lacks countenance but she is much more even tempered than Miss Anastasia."
"They all appear to be amiable young ladies," said James.
"Oh, yes, very amiable! My brother is in despair because the only girls in the neighbourhood that are available are no more than amiable! He finds Miss Emily somewhat appealing, but I think that is only because she is engaged, after all she is so very plain. Even though she is my closest friend I must admit to her plainness." As her statements elicited no response, Sophie asked James directly, "Do you not think she is plain?"
James knew he had to be careful how he answered this question. He was not impressed with Miss Farquar at all. She was brash and forward and he knew he could not trust her an inch. She appeared to have no loyalty at all to her friends. "There is not one plain girl in this room."
"Oho! Very clever, Mr. Warrington. So you will not own an interest in any of the young ladies present. I will just have to keep my eyes open and see what I can discover. Look! Lord Ralph is watching us! He must be wondering what it is we are discussing so animatedly!"
James glanced over to where Lord Ralph was dancing with Miss Sidford. There seemed to be a slight scowl on his handsome features. His partner was dancing composedly. She moved lightly and elegantly on the dance floor. They looked very well together. He allowed himself another look, and wondered that he had ever thought her plain. She was not a beauty in the common sense, but there was a quality to her that attracted him amazingly.
"Don't worry! He cannot mind you dancing with me," said Sophie, flashing James an alluring smile. "After all, he is engaged!"
The dance with Sophie Farquar could not end soon enough for James. It was with relief that he escorted her from the floor. She left him with another flirtatious sally and sauntered over to join Emily and Lord Ralph. Letitia Sidford agreed to play one more country dance, and while she was choosing a new piece of music, all the young people partook of refreshment. When the music started up, James was surprised to discover that after the other couples had formed, Miss Sidford was left standing beside him as his partner. They had not yet danced this evening; when she had not danced with her fiancé, Bertram Farquar had claimed her hand.
As James led her onto the floor, she gave him a little smile and said, "I must thank you, Mr. Warrington, for not giving me away this evening." She blushed slightly as she said it. "It's not that I . . . I mean I am not normally deceitful, but Sophie does tease so and I did not want to . . ."
"I understand perfectly, Miss Sidford. I have just now danced with Miss Farquar," said James, his eyes twinkling.
"I enjoyed our conversation this morning," said Emily. "And I do not think there was any impropriety in our meeting. Not to talk with you would have been uncivil."
"I am happy you think so," said James lightly. "I am of the same mind as you. I do not think it deceitful not to mention our chance encounter; if you had been asked if you had met someone, I am assured you would have answered truthfully, but one is under no obligation to tell of every occurrence of one's day."
"Yes, but I did make it appear that I had only met you the once," said Emily a little shamefacedly.
"I forgive you for it," said James teasingly and received a real smile in answer. His immediate thought was that she should smile more often, and then that it was dangerous for her to smile. He was overcome by the feeling it gave him, and he had to remind himself sternly that she was promised to another.
Emily noticed a slight withdrawal on Mr. Warrington's part, and wondered if she had done anything to offend him, but could think of nothing. She felt an urge to set him at ease. "I hope the harvest went well today," she ventured.
James felt gratified by her question. "It is progressing in a timely fashion. I believe if this dry weather holds we shall not lose a crop."
"I trust I do not sound ignorant," said Emily, "but what is done with all the grain? Do you store it for the cattle?"
"We grow much more than we need for our own use," said James. "Today I went to Greater Malvern, and I believe I have found a corn factor that will not cheat me. But I do not want to bore you with talk of farming."
"I do not find it boring," said Emily. She wondered if maybe Mr. Warrington did not want to talk of such things on the dance floor, and so held back her question about the corn factor. She really had no idea what a corn factor was, and again she reflected upon how little knowledge she actually had of the world outside her home.
"Do you know that you are the only person who actually acknowledges the fact that I am a steward?"
"Well, you told me that you are. Why should I doubt you?"
"Everyone else claims that I cannot be a steward and a gentleman at the same time, and because they would never socialise with a steward, it is impossible for me to be one," said James, wryly.
"You are indeed a gentleman, and by your very word a steward, so it must be possible to be both," Emily reasoned. "I am sure my aunt Letty would agree with me too."
"Thank you, I am most relieved to hear it," said James with a laugh. "I was beginning to believe I should have to drop out of society altogether, for I most definitely think of myself as a steward."
"Oh, please do not do that!" implored Emily, and then she blushed a little at her impulsiveness.
James felt a lightness in his heart. "I shall stay if you think I ought."
They continued the set in silence until James bethought himself to comment on the music, the size of the room, and the number of couples in the dance. Emily answered in kind, and the awkward moment passed. When the dance ended, as reluctant as James was to give up her hand and lose her company, he knew it was for the best.
"You were very deep in conversation all through the dance," said Lord Ralph as soon as James had walked away. "Whatever did you find to talk about?"
"We discussed the harvest," said Emily quietly.
"That is very singular!" After a little thought he added, "I thought you were frightened of the fellow."
"I was merely startled. I have told you repeatedly," she answered shortly.
"No need to get into a pet!" said Lord Ralph. "What think you of Mr. Warrington? Is he a flat or is he our sort?"
"He is very much a gentleman."
"I wonder what he is on about with all this farming nonsense? You'd best not let him bore you with it again; I, for one, shall not. If he can't talk about sport, then there is nothing for it. Though, I must admit that he doesn't rattle on about crops with me. He seemed very knowledgeable about Mendoza. I think he will pass muster, even though he did cry off from going to the races at Worcester."
Emily smiled hollowly, and turned to thank her aunt Letty who had just come away from the pianoforte. The card party had broken up and everybody's carriages were being called. Sir Edward and Felicity had returned home hours before in their carriage, but James was to ride Sophocles home. Goodnights were said and the company dispersed. James thanked Lady Prescott for the invitation and made his adieus. He bowed to Emily and she bobbed a little curtsey. He left Wilverton with his head full of her, and though he galloped at full speed along the empty lanes he could not sweep the thought of her from his mind.
Emily awoke the next morning remembering her dance with Mr. Warrington as a bright spot in a dull evening. He was so different from most people she knew; when he talked with her, he listened to what she had to say and seemed to care about her opinions. She suddenly remembered the handkerchief that she had promised to return so long ago. She opened the drawer where she had thrown it and found it rolled in a ball all wrinkled and stained. She knew that no matter how hard she tried to remove them, the stains were set in place. She could not possibly return it to him in such a condition. The sudden idea of making him a new one eased her mind; she folded the stained one up and absently returned it to her drawer as she contemplated the cloth she had in her workbox, and visualised the colour of thread she would use for his initials. There was a sage green that she was sure would match his eyes.
© 2002, 2003 Copyright held by the author.