A Matter of Choice
Percival Braithwaite leant his
head back against the squabs of his comfortable travelling coach. "The devil
take it! Rusticating in the country again. Oh, what I would give to be
approaching the environs of London rather than . . . what is that miserable
village called, Olivia?"
"Barstow, dear brother. And it
is best we are not approaching London your pockets are still to let from the
Northampton races. You do go on. You have been complaining this whole day, and
I am becoming quite out of patience with you." She turned her petite head and
took a long look at the passing countryside. "It is rather pretty here with all
the elms and oaks, and the stream running through them."
"That horse was a sure thing,
how it came to drop a shoe and lose the race, I have no idea. Too havey-cavey
by half! I could have repaired my losses in London, sister dear," said Percy
leaning over to peer out the window. "It's just woods, Olivia; whether those
trees are elms and oaks -- I'll lay a pony you don't know either."
"As you are in dun territory you
can hardly wager a pony!" she shot back.
"That hasn't stopped me before,"
he teased, then he sat back again and sighed. "I must admit this trip is a
necessary evil. It is well time to ingratiate myself with the old gentleman. I
don't want that young Warrington to queer my pitch."
"How can he? No matter how much
he turns Sir Edward up sweet, the entail can't be broken," said Olivia with
assurance.
"It is not all in the entail and
I do not want some upstart cheating me out of what is mine by rights! We don't
know this fellow from Adam; as it is he is hanging on Sir Edward's sleeve. Why
else would the third son of an inconsequential baronet hole up on a godforsaken
country estate? Mark my words, he is after what he can get from the man and I
intend to put a stop to it!"
"How very noble of you, Percy,"
teased his sister. "Do you think I should do my part and try my charm on him?"
"On Sir Edward?"
"No, silly. Young Mr.
Warrington. It would be amusing to have some sport."
"By all means!"
The pair lapsed into silence
again. As the carriage rolled through Barstow, Percy was heard to groan again
about the lack of polish and unvaried society to be found in the country.
Olivia steadfastly ignored him, instead exclaiming on landmarks that she rather
thought she should admire, if she really had a knowledge or interest in such
things. Anything not to have to listen to Percy's incessant moping. As they
turned into the gates and finally glimpsed Wortham Lodge they were both pleased
to see that it was not as shabby and small as they had feared. It was a
comfortable looking edifice in the Palladian style, built of dressed stone that
shone warmly in the late afternoon sun.
"It isn't half bad," said Percy
in surprise. "And it is a fair sight closer to civilisation than Colhaven. I would
be heir to properties that are practically in Scotland! Now that I see Wortham
Lodge I must admit it will do extremely well for me." He was able to descend
the carriage in much better humour than he had felt all day, and by the time he
was announced to Sir Edward and Lady Warrington he was all affability.
"What beautiful country you have
here, sir." He smiled smoothly and shook Sir Edward's hand with some relish.
"We passed through some very handsome woods on the way, and the view of the
hills was simply remarkable."
Olivia almost smirked at her
brother's words. He had not so much as stirred in his seat when she had
remarked on the distant hills. Setting a warm smile upon her face, she did the
pretty with her aunt and uncle. She was disappointed that James Warrington was
not there to greet them, but was told he was expected for dinner. The young man
interested her greatly; she longed to discover just what kind of deep game he
was playing. Whatever it was, she and Percy were certain to play a deeper one.
They had rarely been bested.
The reflection in her mirror
told Olivia that the care she had taken with her toilette had not been wasted.
She did not at all look as if she had spent the better part of two days
bouncing about in a coach. Her ladies maid had expertly coaxed all the wrinkles
out of her lilac crepe de chine, and the amethysts at her throat were outshone
by the sparkling amethyst of her eyes. Her flaxen hair fell naturally in
perfect ringlets from the knot on her head.
An expert at negotiating strange
houses, she found her way unerringly to the dining room, and paused a moment to
set her smile before she joined the assembled company. She had timed her
entrance perfectly; everyone else was already present. She appeared on
threshold, the perfect picture of shy vulnerability.
"Come in my dear, come in,"
called Sir Edward. "I'm afraid I directed you very ill. I hope you have not
been wandering the corridors for too long."
"Oh no, Sir Edward, I am
completely at fault. I must have turned right instead of left and got myself
into a muddle. Please excuse me." She smiled charmingly at her companions and
took the proffered seat beside James.
The introductions were performed
and she smiled coyly into his face, and then lowered her gaze to her lap. She
hoped that she appeared demure; in reality she was trying hard not to laugh.
Her brother had chosen to dress like a tulip of the first stare of fashion. He
was normally of the dandy set but today he had outdone himself, and compared to
the sober simplicity of James Warrington's impeccable tailoring, he looked like
a peacock. His breeches were yellow, his dinner jacket green with gold stripes,
and his waistcoat was a brilliant paisley. His shirt points were amazingly high
and the intricate folds of his snowy cravat were adorned with an emerald
stickpin of stunning proportion.
The conversation flowed evenly
throughout the meal, and many a stealthy glance on Olivia's part showed her a
man completely at his ease. Either James Warrington was unconcerned by their
presence or he was the best dissembler she had yet to witness. If he was truly
nonchalant, it could mean one of two things: he had nothing to hide, or he felt
his position so secure, Percy and Olivia did not pose a threat to his designs.
He certainly had gained the unqualified admiration and regard of his great
uncle. Olivia set about to charm him in her most subtle way. She exuded all the
naiveté of a debutante, but his manner towards her did not change from amiable
cousinly courtesy. By the end of the evening she could detect no quickening of
interest, no overlong glances or elaborate compliments. She found herself at a
point non-plus and could think of only one valid reason for this outcome.
Percy joined Olivia in her
bedchamber shortly after they had bid their uncle and aunt goodnight. He threw
himself on her bed and stared at the ceiling, not answering his sister's
questions.
"If you are going to have a fit
of the blue devils you may as well leave me to go to bed," she stated as she
sat before her mirror and began removing her jewellery.
"We're in a hobble and there's
no denying it!" Percy pulled the pillow from under his head and threw it across
the room. He groaned audibly and resumed staring at the ceiling.
"Do you mind?" cried Olivia
retrieving the pillow from the corner and dusting it off. "I have to sleep with
that!"
"If he were avaricious or
manipulative, I could deal with him handily." Percy sat up and stared Olivia in
the eye. "But he's pure as the driven snow!"
"An honest man," said Olivia in
acknowledgement, "and what's worse he is kind, generous, fair dealing, hard
working, and scrupulous. What arts can we use against that? He has Sir Edward
in his pocket!"
"He has yet another failing,"
hissed Percy, looking fixedly at his sister. "He is impervious to your charms.
Is the gentleman even human?"
Olivia gave her brother a
sidelong glance. He was doing it rather too brown. "You can mock me all you
like, brother, but there is only one reason that a man would not fall directly
under my spell."
"You have a very high opinion of
yourself. What is your excuse? That he has a fancy for . . ."
"I know what you are about to
say, Percy, and I would ask you to remember that I am a lady, so keep your base
remarks to yourself." Olivia pouted at him and then turned to brush out her
hair.
"If you are such a lady, then
how do you know what I was about to say?" Percy was now lying on his front, his
elbow on the counterpane, his chin propped in his hand, and a look of complete
innocence upon his face.
"I know the workings of your
mind. I knew you were about to say something vile. The reason is obvious. I
could not entice him because our cousin James is in love." Her reflection
stared from the mirror at her brother, daring him to refute the statement.
A smile flitted across his face.
"I wonder, who is the lucky girl? Maybe there is some worthy sport in this
backwater after all. You do realise that we will have to extend our visit at
any rate; let's see what can be done to make it more enjoyable."
"All you have to do is regain
our uncle's love, earn his trust, and prove you are a better man than James
Warrington." Olivia smirked at her brother. "I'd say you will need all the time
that you can get. Let us see what this town has to offer by way of
entertainment. Anyone who is anybody should be seen at church tomorrow. If the
hunting looks good I shall be entirely at your disposal!"
"You expect me to get up early
tomorrow and on top of that to attend church? Have your wits gone begging?"
"Sir Edward will expect it. And
please, if you really want to earn his good graces you must do something about
your wardrobe. It is all very well for London, but the poor man is not
accustomed to viewing such a swell of first stare."
Percy laughed. "I thought they
could do with a little town bronze to perk up their countrified ways."
"A little? Is that what you call
it? I was fit to be tied when I saw you. That waistcoat and those breeches
shall stay in your portmanteau for the duration of our visit, or I'll wash my
hands of you," Olivia replied adamantly.
"Sister, you delight in vexing
me," sighed Percy, "but as I have utmost respect for your judgment, you will
find me reposed on the leather beside you in church tomorrow. I will even lend
you my stickpin to poke me with if you notice me nodding off. And I promise to
appear resplendent in the drabbest of waistcoats, even if I have to rifle
cousin James' wardrobe to do so."
Although Percy was true to his
word and did dress down somewhat, his and Olivia's presence caused quite a stir
in church the next morning. At some point in the service, all eyes swivelled in
the direction of the Warrington pew. Lord Ralph levelled his glass at the pink of
the ton that stood beside James, and then took in the lovely delicate flower of
femininity beside him. No sooner was he out the door and down the church steps
than he turned to Emily, a question in his eyes.
"You have been fit to burst all
service, Lord Ralph," said Emily. "I will take mercy on you. Indeed I do know
who that exquisitely dressed gentleman in the Warrington pew was."
"Well then, out with it," said
Lord Ralph impatiently. "Though why you do know and I don't is a wonder to me."
"It was at your very home, not
two weeks ago that Mr. Warrington informed Sophie and I of his cousins'
impending arrival."
"And you did not see fit to tell
me?"
"I thought he may have told you
himself," said Emily. "Besides, I have no desire to gossip. I am surprised that
Sophie has not told you."
"What are you talking of?" asked
Lady Prescott who was a few steps in front of them. "Do you know who that
gentleman and lady are? Are they staying with Sir Edward?"
Emily sighed. "The gentleman is
Mr. Percival Braithwaite and the lady his sister, Miss Olivia Rutherford. They
are nephew and niece to Sir Edward."
Lady Prescott stopped by her
carriage. "Sir Edward's heir! It must be -- if my memory serves, that is the
very name Elspeth told me. Ralph, I would like you to gain an introduction from
the reverend and then invite the entire party to our Sunday tea! This is
fortuitous. I was afraid we would be quite bored this afternoon." She asked the
driver to hold the horses until Lord Ralph should return. As the general handed
her up she took leave of the Sidfords and then sat as her carriage held up the
queue until Lord Ralph had completed his mission.
Emily gazed out the window of
her carriage as they waited. Her mother had pelted her with questions that she
answered as shortly as possible, until Letty had diverted the attention by
showing an utmost interest to discuss with Maude every detail of the strangers'
raiment. Lord Ralph was rarely matched in his fine appearance, but Emily had to
admit that Mr. Braithwaite cast him into the shade. He was not a terribly
handsome man, nor was he tall, but he carried himself with such assurance and
distinction that he was bound to make an impression regardless of his mode of
dress. His dark hair was brushed into a style of affected casualness that had
taken much effort on the part of his valet. His Hessians sparkled in the
morning sun. His greatcoat had numerous capes, and his very elegant legs were
encased in cream pantaloons. A charcoal satin waistcoat could be seen through
his open coat, and his neck-cloth was a wonder to behold. But he was not the
only object of interest. His sister was a picture of elegance. She wore a high
poke bonnet with an ostrich plume of pale lavender. Her pelisse was of the
warmest ivory, and what showed of her gown was dainty figured muslin. Her hands
were hidden in a silver fox muff, and Emily could see her delicate features as
she gazed up at Lord Ralph with a demure smile on her face. She was quite
enchantingly beautiful.
The invitation made and
accepted, Lord Ralph returned in triumph to his waiting carriage, and hurried
home, all the while planning a much more elaborate knot for his cravat. Upon
entering his quarters he tore off the offending article he had worn to church
and called to his valet for a dozen new cloths. He had barely three hours with
which to come up with a style that would surpass that of Percival Braithwaite.
When Emily arrived at Wilverton,
Sophie was already seated in the drawing room. She rushed up to Emily
exclaiming, "I am so glad you are come at last! Lord Ralph is taking this age
and I am about to explode. Did you see her bonnet? So lovely, but rather an
insipid shade of lavender. I'd go bail it cost her fifty guineas with the
silver netting and all, but I for one would never pay that much for such a
colour! Periwinkle would look most becoming on me, don't you agree?"
"I thought the colour very
elegant," said Emily. "With Miss Rutherford's porcelain skin it did not look
insipid at all."
"You would say that, Emily
dear," said Sophie, "for you delight in wearing insipid colours. Why look at
your gown. It is such a dingy shade of green!"
"It is moss green and I quite
like it," said Emily not taking offence.
Just then Lord Ralph made his
appearance. He had taken great pains with his wardrobe and was rather proud of
the effect. Sophie was pleased to see that he was wearing royal blue, for she
had worn a lovely blue striped morning dress that complemented his jacket to
perfection. She attempted to draw him into conversation with her but he was
astoundingly inattentive. His eyes kept turning to the door and soon he was
rewarded by the announcement of his guests. To his great relief, Mr.
Braithwaite had not changed his attire and Lord Ralph was secure in his
knowledge that now his neck-cloth was the superior of the two.
Olivia stood on the threshold of
the drawing room and surveyed the assembled company. She sighed in satisfaction
and moved forward. Her cousin may have been impervious, but here were two very
eligible swains that she was determined would be at loggerheads with each other
by the end of the week, each vying for her attention. She immediately dismissed
the girl in green as no competition at all, but the brassy one in blue stripes
was another matter. It would be fun to see what lengths she would go to vie for
the gentlemen's favour. That the casually dressed gentleman was the brother of
the girl took away a bit of the fun, but the discovery that Lord Ralph was
betrothed to Miss Sidford added to his appeal. Especially when she saw the
possessive look in Miss Farquar's eyes whenever they rested upon him.
Percy sat languidly on a chair
and entered into conversation with Lord Ralph. He was pleased to see how easily
he had led the paper-skulled lord into competition. His neck-cloth was a rather
good attempt, but easily bested. This was going to be amusing. As for the
ladies, well he would win them both. It would be simple with such little
competition, never mind that one was engaged to Lord Ralph and the other
besotted with him. He speculated that the plain one would never before have
received the attentions he was about to bestow, and would soon succumb. As for
the other one, she looked the flighty sort who would enjoy juggling two or
three flirtations. All that remained to be discovered was which lady had caught
Cousin James' fancy, if Olivia was correct in her assumption, and Olivia was
rarely wrong. There was always the girl in church to consider, the parson's
daughter, just the type of girl that a stick like his cousin would be interested
in. He managed to catch Miss Farquar's eye, and she smiled at him cheekily.
Easy pickings!
Sophie blushed as Mr.
Braithwaite returned her smile with a long look. He was nowhere near as
handsome as Lord Ralph, but he had something in his look that set more than her
heart fluttering. She turned to Emily and whispered, "Is he incredibly rich?"
Emily turned to her in
exasperation and said, "I do not know the extent of his fortune. Why do you not
ask him?"
"You are in a twitty mood!"
returned Sophie. "I am certain Lady Prescott will find out shortly and then I
need only ask her. She has been interviewing Miss Rutherford for some time
now."
Emily had to acknowledge the
truth of that statement. Lady Prescott and her mother could worm information
out of the most reticent person; they were that persistent. And Miss Rutherford
did not appear reticent in the least. She was chatting away and laughing with
the utmost amiability.
James sat back and eyed his
cousins dispassionately. There was no doubt that they were up to something.
They had been up to something since their arrival at Wortham lodge. He had seen
through Olivia's act at a glance that first night. She was a downy one and
there was no mistaking it, no matter how naïve she tried to appear. That Percy regarded
him with suspicion was also evident, although he did his fair best not to show
it. He understood Percy's apprehensions and could not blame him for it, but he
did not see that there was cause for the fellow to worry. After all, he was Sir
Edward's heir and he should feel secure in that. Whether Sir Edward preferred
James was a moot point because there was no way to alter the entail. James did
not know the full extent of the inheritance but saw no cause for Percy to fear
his position.
"Oh la! Lady Prescott, I feel I
have known you forever," said Olivia, simpering ever so slightly. "I am not
usually such a prattle-box, but you have set me so at my ease with your
kindness. Now I would love a moment to meet the delightful young ladies over
there. It is a pity I am so shy, but I hope they will show me as much
generosity as you - and you also Mrs. Sidford -- have shown me." With that she
departed, leaving both ladies completely unaware that they had not discovered
anything from Olivia that she had not expressly wished to make known to them.
She seated herself beside Emily
and smiled ingeniously. "I am so pleased to find such a nice society here," she
confided. "When Percy told me we would be staying for at least a month in the
deepest country I was afraid everything would be so rustic and there would be
no one of quality to visit, but I have been most pleasantly surprised. I
thought everyone of note would have left for the season!"
"Thank you," said Emily. "I much
prefer the country to the city so I am content to stay at home."
"The country can be such a
boor," interposed Sophie, "so I can understand your dread to come, but we do
have a lot of entertainment, and there are assemblies at Greater Malvern.
Nothing to Almack's, mind, but the waltz is danced."
"Indeed! What a very forward
thinking community! You are in luck," said Olivia. "I hope I shall be able to
prevail on you to befriend me, for I am excessively shy and know no one in
these parts."
Emily looked at Olivia closely.
She did not have the appearance of shyness. Olivia lowered her eyes and gave a
little blush, an ability that she had mastered over the years. "I am afraid I
have overstepped the bounds of . . ." she started weakly and then faltered as
her chin began to quiver.
"I would be very happy to be
your friend," said Emily.
"Oh! I too!" exclaimed Sophie
with more enthusiasm than she really felt. "You must come to tea with me
tomorrow; both of you."
"You are much too kind," said
Olivia wiping the corners of her eyes. "You cannot know how grateful I am to be
made to feel so welcome, Miss Farquar."
"You have no need to stand on
points with me," said Sophie feeling that she had made a conquest. "If we are
to be friends you must call me Sophie, and Miss Sidford Emily!"
Emily looked at Sophie and
thought, ‘ It very obliging of you to be so free with my name.'
"And you both must call me
Olivia," said Olivia in a sweetly sincere little voice. She turned to Emily and
gave her a winsome look. "I have been admiring your dress all day, Emily. I do
so love the colour, and it becomes you very well."
"Thank you," said Emily.
"And Sophie," said Olivia
turning shyly to her, "you must have lately had your gown from London, for
stripes such as those are currently all the crack."
Sophie simpered and said something
complementary about Olivia's own gown, which led to a discussion of the current
fashions. Emily listened politely but was soon relieved when Bertram Farquar
joined them anxious to make Olivia's acquaintance, followed close on his heels
by Lord Ralph. Emily moved her spot to make room for the gentlemen.
"Miss Sidford, might I interest
you in a cup of tea?"
Emily turned and found herself
being addressed by Mr. Braithwaite. She accepted politely and he took a seat by
her.
"I find myself charmed by the
countryside," he said in dulcet tones.
"In the middle of winter?" she
responded. "Don't you find it rather stark? The branches are bare, the fields
are barren, and everything has a greyness about it."
"But I can envision how it will
look in the spring with the leaves unfurled and undulating grasses, and flowers
in profusion."
"I admit that I find a serene
beauty in the winter landscape, though few do, but you have dressed it up very
well indeed," said Emily, amused by his description.
"And if you were outside within
this vision of mine it would be dressed up to perfection," he said softly.
Emily found this forward speech
a trifle unnerving and was unsure how to respond to it when she was saved by
Lady Prescott's imperious command to play. She excused herself hurriedly and
took her place at the instrument before Mr. Braithwaite had time to suggest
that he sit and turn the pages for her. She began to play and he sat back and
watched her with a sly smile upon his face.
Percy was not the only person
paying attention to the music. James did not move from his position between
General Sidford and Mr. Farquar, but he no longer attended to their
conversation. He let the music take him, and though his eyes were more often on
his cousins than on the piano player, his thoughts were with her and her music.
He was aware that both of his cousins were alive to the time of day, and he had
no intentions of betraying his partiality for Emily Sidford to them. He could
imagine to what use they would put their conjectures and he wanted to protect
her at all cost from being importuned. Already he was not happy with Percy's
behaviour towards her. He had said something that had unsettled her, and James
had noticed that it took more than a few bars of music before she was completely
at ease again.
After the gathering broke up and she was returning home in the carriage, Emily thought back on the afternoon with a tinge of regret. She had not once been able to converse with Mr. Warrington as she was used to. They had exchanged greetings, and glances, but he had stayed with the older gentlemen for most of his visit, except for the quarter hour she had noticed him in her Aunt Letty's company. All the discourse that had surrounded her had been superficial and banal, and she missed the lively and interesting conversations she invariably enjoyed with him. She sighed, ignored her mother's incessant recounting of the afternoon to her aunt, and looked out the window. She had told Mr. Braithwaite there was something serene about the barrenness to be found out of doors at this time of year, and she had spoken with sincerity. The sky had been white all day; the faint sun that had shone in the morning had long since given up making an impression, and now was setting without grandeur. The sky was flushed a tender pink and nothing more. The hedges raised their bare wattled branches, and here and there berries not yet discovered by the hungry birds added a dab of red. The very silence of the flat, crisp fields caused Emily to yearn to walk out on them in the fading light.
Olivia sat back on the settee of
the Farquar drawing room and reviewed her surroundings. The furnishings spoke
of money, from the damask upholstery to the finely crafted tea table with its
gold leaf encrusted bone china to the ormolu clock on the mantle. What the room
lacked in taste it made up for in sheer quantity. There was not a surface that
was not littered with Dresden shepherdesses, jewelled boxes, or enamelled eggs.
Mrs. Farquar graced the tea table, a froth of violet satin and lace. Sophie was
dressed a little more demurely in flowing layers soft pink muslin, her bodice
an intricate design of frills and tucks. Only Emily appeared out of place in a
simple gown of pale straw with a russet ribbon trim. Olivia herself was in an
orchid hued silk creation that set off her delicate china doll features. She
reflected that it was a pity that none of the gentlemen were present to see how
it became her.
"It is so delightful to be
together, just the three of us, without any men to complain about our chatter!"
sighed Olivia.
"I do so agree!" exclaimed
Sophie, who had just been wishing that Emily had been driven over by Lord Ralph
and not her own coachman who was enjoying a good jaw with his cronies in the
stable. Emily simply smiled and sipped her tea, taking little part in the
ensuing conversation about the latest London fashions.
It did not take Olivia long to
realise that Emily did not share Sophie's enthusiasm for discussing necklines
and sleeves, so she made an attempt to bring her into the conversation. From
her observation, there was nothing a girl liked to talk of more than fashion
but her beaux. "It must be most agreeable to be engaged to such a handsome man
as Lord Ralph! I do congratulate you. You must be the envy of all the young
ladies in the neighbourhood to have stolen the mark on them all."
Emily blushed and explained the
longstanding nature of the engagement, and Sophie started in on teasing her of
the unfairness of it all. "Sophie, please," said Emily with some constraint.
"We have spoken of this before, and you gave me your solemn word to desist."
Olivia looked on with interest,
and then asked Sophie for information on the available gentlemen she should
hope to meet. "For surely there must be someone promising for you and I to have
a chance at!"
"My dear Olivia, we are sadly
flat! Aside from George Lampton and Geoffrey Billingsworth, who are amazingly
dull creatures, our small community doesn't boast any young men of stature!"
"You are forgetting Mr. Warrington!
Is he not eligible, or is he promised already?" Olivia eyed both girls. There
was a flicker of interest in Emily's eyes but she only sipped her tea and
remained quiet.
"If only he had prospects,"
sighed Sophie. "Emily, shall I tell Olivia of your encounter with him? Such a
romantic adventure!"
"You know very well there was
nothing romantic about it," said Emily calmly. "But as you will not be happy
until it is told, I will tell Olivia myself. In that case she will hear the
true story."
Olivia had to admit that when
the story was told it was quite an insignificant event and she could only
surmise that Sophie enjoyed testing her friend's patience.
"There are two other gentlemen
as yet unmentioned," said Emily bringing the conversation back to its original
subject. As Sophie stared at her blankly she added. "Both of you ladies do have
brothers."
"Bertie?" shrieked Sophie. "You
are welcome to him Emily. If you have been pining away for him all these years,
just say the word and I will inform him!"
Emily gave Sophie a quelling
look, and Olivia commented that Mr. Farquar should not be summarily discounted
by his sister. "I believe I am forming quite a tendre for him," she stated,
blushing slightly. "I found him rather sweet." She was positive this little
admission would quickly get back to him.
"Your brother is quite the
gentleman!" said Sophie to Olivia. "He is complete to a shade! I would like to
see him on a dance floor. The Assembly is in two weeks; will you be attending?"
"Is it indeed?" said Olivia. "We
are in luck. There is nothing that Percy and I enjoy more than dancing! But
will gentlemen be scarce? We have only named six between us! And there are sure
to be many beautiful young ladies to excite their fancy."
"Lord! There is a regiment of officers
stationed near Greater Malvern, and other gentlemen of property! We never want
for partners, do we Emily? Of course, you only dance with people from our own
circle, but I never want for partners!"
The rest of the visit was spent
discussing the assembly, and whether new gowns could be designed and ordered in
time. When Olivia took her leave, she turned to Emily and said, "Bye the bye, I
will be seeing you again quite soon. Percy and I have been invited to accompany
Cousin James to dine at the parsonage this Saturday and I understand you will
be attending."
"Yes, Ruth Chesterton is my
particular friend," said Emily.
"They do all manner of good
works together, announced Sophie, laughing. "You have no idea, Olivia! They
wash dirty children and feed sick babies, and enter the most squalid of
cottages. I cringe simply thinking about it!"
"You are to be commended," said
Olivia, giving Emily a wistful smile. "It is more than I could bring myself to
do, but I have often put together hampers and sent them with my maid." It was
almost true. She had once gone down to the kitchen to discover that cook was
bundling up some things for the poor and she had told her to carry on, and even
sent a maid to fetch her spangled shawl with the wine stain, as there was no hope
of it ever coming clean, and adding it to the basket.
Ruth had taken pains over the
seating arrangements, fitting the two newcomers in without displacing Emily
from Mr. Warrington's side. She worried about how the evening would go. She had
met Mr. Braithwaite and Miss Rutherford the previous Sunday at church and they
seemed a trifle fancy for the parsonage. The conversation was bound to take a
much shallower vein. Ruth was pleasantly surprised when both guests exhibited a
desire to please and attempted to follow the discourse rather than lead. It
wasn't until they were about to take their places at the dinner table that she
ran into any problems.
"I do hope I am seated next to
you," she heard Olivia loudly whisper to Emily, "for I barely know a soul and I
am all aquake."
"You should be comfortable at
any spot," answered Emily in a surprised voice. "There is nothing to fear from
anyone here."
"Oh! I could not!" cried Olivia.
"I had so counted on us being together!"
Emily looked at Ruth
imploringly, and James caught her expression. He felt it incumbent upon himself
to offer Olivia his place, and he seated himself by Ruth, wondering what his
cousin hoped to gain by playing off her little tricks.
"Dear cousin James," said Olivia
with a sweet little blush. "You are too good to me, but I do not desire to sit
next to Percy, so I will trade seats with Emily and she may sit between us." As
they all sat, she leaned across the table and said to Mrs. Chesterton, "I do
apologise for my case of the nerves. I don't quite know what came over me,"
effectively interrupting Reverend Chesterton as he had been about to say grace.
After grace was said, Olivia
turned to Emily, saying with a smile, "My brother has been longing to resume
his conversation with you! He is quite smitten, you know."
Emily felt all the perverseness
of this statement and the machinations involved to seat them together. They
knew very well that she was engaged. She recalled his flattery of the other
day, and blushingly tried to avoid looking in Percy's direction, but he
addressed her and she had no choice but to attend to him.
"I have rarely heard such lovely
playing as you gave us on Sunday at Wilverton. Can I expect to hear more
tonight?"
"Thank you," she said, "but the
pianoforte is in the back parlour that is used as the school room."
"I am desolated! It was the one
ray of hope to brighten an otherwise dull evening," he said, glancing at her
expressively.
His look made her shiver, not
from delight as was his intention, but with revulsion. She turned back to
Olivia and, grasping for a subject, began to talk to her about books.
"Do you read novels too?" said
Olivia. "I simply adore novels, especially Miss Radcliffe's. They are so
shockingly thrilling."
"They are not much to my taste,"
said Emily. "I prefer stories that are closer to real life."
"So does Percy, don't you?"
"Decidedly. None of those
farfetched romantic novels for me. I am just now reading Waverley. Have you
read it?"
"I have not."
"What is it that you read? As
with all young ladies you must enjoy poetry. Scott? Cowper?"
"Yes, at times I do. I am
reading a novel at present called Persuasion. Have you read it?" Emily asked,
turning to Olivia.
"Oh, it sounds much too dull for
my tastes!" cried Olivia.
"Perhaps I have read it," said
Percy. "Who is the author?"
"She calls herself, ‘A Lady'"
"Oh, then I have not read it. I
only read books written by men! It is an odd sort of bluestocking that would
attempt to enter a man's field."
"Percy, may I remind you Miss
Radcliffe is a lady, and a wonderful writer!" said his sister.
"Proof that it would be a death
to British literature as we know it to allow women to take up writing!"
Olivia frowned at her brother.
This type of discourse would not gain him points with Emily. Sometimes he could
be such a cloth-head. She immediately changed the conversation to the
discussion of gardens and flowers, and Percy took the hint. Not only did he
agree with Emily that embellishing the natural elements of a landscape was more
to his taste than a formal garden, but he also stated that roses were not his
favourite flower either, after Olivia had expressed that preference.
"Roses are indeed beautiful,"
said Emily who had spent too many a hot afternoon gathering the flowers for
Lady Prescott, "but there are many that I prefer. Witch hazel for instance, or
Mayflower, violets, and lilac, but probably my favourite would be lily of the
valley."
"Lily of the valley!" exclaimed
Percy, hitting on the one flower that she mentioned that he thought he knew.
"How we think alike. Lilies have long been the flowers I take the greatest
pleasure in. So grand, so regal, much more impressive than a mere rose."
The conversation was extended to
a general discussion of the spots of beauty and interest to be found in the
environs and the rest of the evening was spent with the whole company supplying
the brother and sister with directions to this or that location. Mrs.
Chesterton took care to inform them that it might not look like much at this
time of year, but from April to October there was much of beauty to be found.
Emily found herself overtaken by
restlessness the next few days. Visits from Lord Ralph, Sophie, and Olivia did
nothing to dispel this feeling. On Thursday morning she was truly in the hips,
and was giving over to vexation with her mother's fatuous conversation. She
knew they were to have guests again in the afternoon, so the moment she was
safely able to leave her mother and aunt without appearing uncivil, she ran up
to her room for her book and her thick pelisse and slipped out to the park.
It was a beautiful day for
December. The sky was crystalline and the sun was brightly warm. Frost still
clung to the shadows, but the open spaces were clean and fresh and almost
spring-like. After walking for some time to clear her head, Emily found a dry
rock wall to sit on and drew her book from within her deep pocket. She was
disappointed to discover that in her haste she had brought the first volume of
Persuasion that she had already finished. She was now well into the second one,
and Anne, who had been in Bath for some time, had just met with Captain
Wentworth for the first time since the fateful trip to Lyme. He had appeared
somewhat nervous when he greeted Anne, and Emily was anxious to find out if his
interest in her was rekindling. With all the visiting and sewing she had been
doing lately, there was little time for reading. Now, here she was, with an
hour at hand and she had brought out the wrong book.
She gazed about her as she
clasped the book in her lap. This was the volume that she promised to lend Mr.
Warrington, but since that day she had only seen him in company and she would
have felt awkward giving it to him in front of someone. Just like the
handkerchief. But luckily she had managed that before her father had
effectively curtailed her freedom. She missed those meetings. Lately she had
barely managed a conversation with her friend. Saturday night at dinner she had
suffered a disappointment. She hadn't realised just how much she had been
looking forward to sitting beside him and discovering some new thing about
farming that she had never imagined, but she had to acknowledge that the
unsettled feeling she had had all week was due to that night. Not only had
Olivia manoeuvred alternate seating arrangements, but after dinner, when she
had expected Mr. Warrington to come and join her, he had taken a spot beside
Mrs. Chesterton and only glanced in her direction twice.
She missed his conversation, she
missed his warm smile, and she missed that look in his eyes which made her feel
so comfortable with him. She sighed. She had come out to escape, and yet she
was still restive. How could she escape that which was inside herself? She
slipped the book back into her pocket and started to walk again, past clumps of
barren hazel, young stands of beech with their curled and shrivelled leaves,
and here and there a scotch pine adding its dusty green to the landscape. She
came to the southwest corner of the park where the hedges bordered onto a
public lane, and a gate deep in the hedge opened onto a vista of the Malvern
Hills. It was a low gate, and she climbed upon it to sit and gaze across the
undulating meadow that lead from the other side of the lane to an arm of the
Severn River, a dim haze of woods, and the bluish shadowy hills rising into the
pale bright sky. She was disturbed in this occupation by the clop of a horse
trotting in the trail, and her heart skipped a beat.
He almost missed her, but in the
periphery of his vision a smudge of brown and green found shape as a pelisse
and bonnet and he pulled the reins sharply to. There she was sitting atop a
gate like a vision from one of his dreams. James slid from Sophocles' back and
joined her. There was no need for commonplace greetings; her smile said
everything that needed to be said and his answered in kind.
"The view from this fence is
astounding," Emily said. "I had never noticed it before."
"I understood you were
restricted to walking in your park," said James voicing one of the first
thoughts that came into his head. The first he could not say; he had no wish to
scare her away.
"I am. This is my gate, and as
you can see, I have not passed through it," answered Emily with a smile. "But
this lane is not a byway, nor is it near Sir Edward's estate." She stopped
suddenly, thinking of how what she had said might sound. "I mean . . . I am not
asking you your business . . ."
James laughed reassuringly.
"Miss Sidford," Emily "I am perfectly willing to tell you my business.
But if you cannot step down, will you make room for me upon the gate? I shall
strain my neck staring up at you."
Emily assented readily and
obligingly moved over. "I hope it can bear your weight as well as mine!" she
teased.
"As you weigh but naught, my
weight should be easily borne." He sat upon the sturdy bar and leant against
the post. "You are right. The view is worth all the danger of the perilous
situation!"
"You are perfectly safe," Emily
laughed. "Now satisfy my curiosity, if you please, sir."
"Mr. Bruckham, a gentleman
farmer I met at the market, owns a sizeable piece of land at the end of this
lane. He heard me talking of my methods of crop rotation and asked if I could
spare the time to ride over his fields and advise him."
"You know what I must ask you
now, do you not?"
"I think I have an inkling. Do
we rotate the crops clockwise or counter-clockwise?" said James with a wicked
grin.
"Oh! I was about to say no such
thing!" said Emily. "I was only going to ask what exactly . . ." She broke off,
unable to continue as James had begun to laugh in earnest and it was
infectious.
"I promise to tell you all about
crop rotation, and Turnip Townshend too!"
"I must hear about a fellow
named Turnip!"
"He can't really be called a
fellow," said James, still laughing a bit. "He was the second Viscount Townshend
of Rayham, and he might take exception to the term."
"And yet he calls himself
Turnip!"
"Yes he held a strong belief in
growing turnips for fodder. An excellent method of returning nitrogen to the
soil."
Emily let the word fodder slip
by. She would understand what he meant by it soon enough, and she allowed him
to explain to her the concept of rotating crops. "When the ground is frozen
hard as it is these days and the plants are all brittle, It is a good time plan
the crops for the spring so we are prepared for when there is more work than
time."
"I had wondered what you found
to do in such cold weather," admitted Emily.
"And what do you do? Go for long
walks to sit upon gates or are you occupied much at home?"
"I am occupied more than I could
like with sewing and visitors, so today I escaped with my book, only to find I
brought the wrong volume with me," said Emily, her eyes widening in
realisation. "But how fortuitous meeting you! It was just the volume I promised
to lend you and I was wondering how to get it into your hands." She dug into
her pocket and held it out to him.
James took the slim volume and
handled it gently as she smiled shyly at him. He flipped though the pages and
read a line here and there. "Thank you," he said, looking into her eyes with
melting warmth. "I am certain I will enjoy it, and now I have time in which to
read it. I will take good care of it." He put it into the breast pocket of his
greatcoat.
"I know that," said Emily,
enjoying the warm feeling that was seeping through her.
"Just a moment," said James
jumping down from the fence. "If you are able to wait a few minutes I will be
right back."
Emily smiled and nodded. James
mounted Sophocles and turned back the way he had come. She looked out over the
sloping meadow. The grass, shorn by grazing sheep, showed green tinged with
rust. In the summer it would be a mass of lupine and columbine, but it still
looked beautiful to her in its Spartan winter clothes. It seemed no time at all
before James Warrington returned. He rode right up to her and held out a bunch
of twigs. From every node sprouted short ribbon-like clusters of bright yellow
flowers.
"Witch hazel!" she said in
astonishment. "How did you . . ."
"I have very sensitive hearing,
and an equally good memory when it comes to something of real importance," he
said with his soft crooked smile.
She looked into his eyes. The
green was very bright. She felt tears prick in the corners of her own. She was
aware that the restless sensation that had haunted her all week was gone, had
been gone for some time. And instead of the comfortable feeling that had
initially replaced it, there was this nebulous thrum of excitement that she had
never known before. She held out her hand to take the delicate branches, all
the while willing it not to shake. His eyes held hers.
"I will need to come this way
again Tuesday next," he said in a voice that seemed to come from far away. "I
must go now. I am afraid I am very late."
"I must go too," was all that she said. But neither of them moved for quite some time.
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by the author.