A Matter of Choice

Chapter Thirty-Four

Saturday started clear and cold, but by noon the sky held the portent of snow. Mrs. Sidford disallowed Emily from going to the parsonage and a note was sent around. As the afternoon lengthened tiny flakes loosed themselves from the clouds, and by evening it was snowing in full earnest. Emily sat in her widow embrasure wrapped securely in a woollen shawl to protect herself from the eddying draughts. The world outside her window was wondrous in its beauty; the snowflakes were now large and softly swirling about the garden, blanketing the trees and bushes and piling layer upon layer over the frozen crust of snow that already covered the ground. This was the snowfall James Warrington had spoken of. There would be no going to church in the morning.

Emily left the window reluctantly and picked up her book. She had left the drawing room to retrieve it and was expected to return. Reading would at least the-save her from her mother's desire to converse on one subject alone previous evening's assembly. For Emily the best moments at the assembly were her dance with James Warrington, and her conversations with her friend Ruth, but these were not the things her mother wished to dwell upon, nor did Emily want to discuss them.

The drapes of the drawing room windows were firmly closed, shutting out not only the draughts but also the ethereal beauty of the whitened garden. A grand fire cast an orange glow about the room, and numerous candelabras brightened even the darkest corners. Emily joined her aunt Letty by the fireplace where she was embroidering a cushion. Maude Sidford, too, held some needlework in her hands, but she was not attending to it.

"I fear we will have no company for the next few weeks," she announced in doleful accents, "and we were to have dined at Wilverton on Christmas day."

"Do you really think so?" asked Emily, taken aback. It was not missing the dinner that disturbed her, but the thought of other company she would have to forego. No dinners at the parsonage; no walks in the park.

"It is a regular blizzard out there," barked the general from his wing chair.

"We were very lucky that it waited until today," said Mrs. Sidford, embarking again upon her favourite subject. "I would not have had yesterday's assembly cancelled for the world. What a delightful evening we had! Emily was such a success! I never knew you could look so beautiful. Fanny Farquar was quite green with envy! And Lord Ralph could not keep his eyes from your face. I heard a story that he gave Bertram quite a set down for dancing with you, my dear!" she said turning to Emily.

Emily had heard it all before. "He had no cause to. Mr. Farquar's behaviour was unexceptional." She opened her book and found her spot.

"Bertie Farquar is an infernal nodcock!" said the general, not attending to Emily at all. "All them Farquars are. It's a blessing our Emily is betrothed to his lordship or we'd have that court-card paying her his attentions."

Emily let the conversation drone on around her. She entered Anne Elliot's quiet world instead and discovered with deepening concern that Captain Wentworth was under the misapprehension that Anne was about to become engaged to her cousin.

The next morning Emily finished the book while sitting in her window looking out at the mysterious white landscape. Her heart was deeply touched by Captain Wentworth's letter, and she wondered how it would feel to receive a letter like that. To be able to love another person with such fervour. Nothing Lord Ralph did would ever pierce her soul, and she acknowledged that though she would never enjoy such depths of love that Anne and Frederick did, she would neither experience the deep pain of loss that they had both endured. She sighed and laid the book aside. It would be a few weeks before she would be able to place it in James Warrington's hands, if all the predictions of continued snowfall followed by a cold spell could be believed.

It snowed again twice the following week until there were several feet of snow. Christmas was a quiet affair for all the families, and it is to be hoped that each was able to find enough to entertain and interest themselves within their own small set. Maude Sidford did not hesitate to bemoan the lack of varied company, and Emily was glad that she had much to occupy herself with in other parts of the house. With the help of Aunt Letty, her faithful Alice, the housekeeper and the cook, she was able to prepare enough hampers for all the tenants upon the estate. The day after Christmas they were distributed by the groom, who managed to harness a sled to a sturdy farm horse and negotiate the blocked lanes with the help of two stable lads. Emily herself brought them steaming mugs of hot cocoa when they returned at dusk, tired and frozen to the marrow.

The new year came and the roads were still impassable except with farm sleds pulled by big heavy carthorses. Emily managed to walk further and further each day, aided by the shovelling prowess of the two young stable lads. By the end of the first week of January they had extended her trail all the way to the west gate and Emily was free to enjoy her usual walk again. She ventured out with thick stockings and leather half-boots that managed to keep her feet reasonably dry, though could not keep them warm. When she arrived to the gate she had to rub life back into her toes.

Emily peered out over the gate and noted that the lane had been traversed, and that the snow on the other side of the gate was much trampled. She looked around excitedly and noticed a small wreath hanging from the gatepost. It was made of twisted willow and intertwined with red berries and rose-hips from the hedge. Where these materials had been found with such a thick coating of snow over everything, she was at a loss to discover, but the little offering touched her deeply. James had been there, and he had left the wreath for her to find. If he came and saw it gone he would know she had finally managed her walk again. Somehow Emily found this very comforting.

She carried the present back with her, balancing it on her muff as she walked with care. Once in her room, she opened her bureau drawer and unfolded a much stained and wrinkled handkerchief. She placed the wreath upon it and quickly closed the drawer. The only other person who might open the drawer would be Alice, and she trusted her to say nothing of her unusual possessions. Only then, after her treasure was safe, did she pull off her fur-lined gloves and struggle with her frozen laces. Her feet had no feeling at all. She tossed her cloak on her bed and hobbled over to the fire, placing her footstool as close to the heat as possible, and sat and rubbed warmth back into her feet.

The snow was deep for Sophocles and James had no wish for him to founder in a hidden ditch, so he walked him with care along the little used byways and down the narrow lanes. Such heavy snowfalls were rare and the people were unaccustomed to making their way through it, so the traffic was negligible. He saw a few labourers out delivering provisions with their big farm sleds. The poor had to make their way to work or procure food; the rich were snug in their stately homes where everything was provided them.

James arrived at the gate and immediately noticed that the wreath was gone. He looked into the park and perceived that a path had been shovelled and beaten right up to the paling. He felt much needed warmth spread throughout his body. It was senseless happiness at such a trivial occurrence, but he felt as if he had communicated with Emily. She had found his simple gift and had taken it home. That was enough for him. He got down from his horse and started forming a ball with the snow. In five minutes a small snow figure was perched atop the fence. James brushed snow from the hedge and broke a few sticks off with which to draw a face and form arms. He remounted Sophocles, lingered for a few more minutes, and then rode slowly back in the direction of Wortham.

On the way, James made a stop at the parsonage. He was the first visitor the Chestertons had received in almost three weeks. He found the family in their snug parlour enjoying tea and cakes around the hearth. The boys ran over to him, full of tales of the fun they had been having sledding and building forts in the snow. He promised to join them in their arctic encampment after his visit, and then sat down beside Mrs. Chesterton.

"How is it in the outside world?" she asked. "We have been quite housebound here and have had little news."

"The main roads will soon be passable," said James. "The great road from London to Worcester is clear and the post is starting to get through. I received two letters from my sister this morning, and one from Ellendshall."

"And how does my protégé Mr. Grantham do?" asked the reverend.

"He is getting along very well indeed. He is very confident that in six months his curacy will end and the living will be bestowed upon him. He asked me to be sure to extend his greetings to all his friends at the parsonage," said James, turning towards Ruth during the latter part of this communication. She had the grace to blush.

"I'm delighted to hear it! A very promising young man!" said Reverend Chesterton jovially, also glancing at his eldest daughter.

Ruth sat very demurely, but James noticed an added lustre in her eyes. "You must tell us your sister's news," she said, adroitly changing the subject. "Have they been as besieged by snow in Huntingdon as we have?"

"No. They did have a heavy snowfall, but were not snowbound for more than three or four days. My brother George has been home for Christmas and they were also joined by my good friend Mr. Hastings and his cousin, Miss Broome."

After a convivial half-hour, James took his leave and joined the young boys outside for the kind of winter fun that he had not engaged in for many a year. In the short time that they had been outside, Francis and Peter had amassed quite an amount of ammunition, and James found himself thoroughly pelted before he managed to find cover and build up an arsenal of his own.

Emily almost ran along the deep path through the snow. Her mother had noticed her as she was heading out and had admonished her not to linger, but she was determined to go all the way to the west gate. The white banks rose up high on either side of her; heaped with shovelled snow they came almost to her waist. She hurried along. Would there be something to show that James had been this way?

The little huddled figure of snow that perched on the top rail brought a smile to her face. Emily thought back to when, as a child, she had made just such figures. Little snow people. She had forgotten all about them in the long years since. Years filled with learning the correct decorum of a proper young had no place for such- posture, poise and refinement -lady's behaviour childish pleasures. She happily bent down and started collecting snow to make one of her own. It wasn't the best of efforts, but it was recognisable as a seated man, leaning against the fence post. She smiled to think that her friend's creation now had a companion, someone to talk to until they should both meet there again.

Emily had taken longer than she intended, and she rushed back along the slippery trail hoping that her mother would not chastise her. She entered the drawing room to inform her mother of her return before going up and removing her outer garments only to find Lord Ralph sitting by the fire drinking tea.

"Good heavens, I did not think to see anyone," she said in a flustered voice. "Have you been here long?"

Lord Ralph looked up and was surprised at how attractive Emily appeared with her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. She was wearing a plain dark cloak with the hood thrown back and a simple green dress showing beneath, and yet, completely unadorned and without the finery he had last seen her in, the bloom of her looks still struck him. Had she always been that pretty and he had just never taken notice before, or had her looks become greatly improved lately? The impatient phrase he was about to utter died on his lips and instead he said, "Not long at all Emily, but I'm damned glad you've finally shown your face."

"Trust you to be gallivanting outdoors when we have visitors!" cried her mother as she entered the room. "Lord Ralph has finally managed to bring his carriage out. Lady Penelope requests our company. It is good that you are still in your cloak, we can leave immediately."

"But mama, my feet are frozen through. Cannot I have five minutes to thaw them by the fire?"

Lord Ralph had already arisen and was fidgeting with his cane. "The horses have been waiting this age," he said.

Mrs. Sidford called the footmen for his greatcoat, hat and gloves. "We must think of the horses! Really, Emily, your selfishness astounds me sometimes."

Emily sat shivering under the cold rugs as the horses slowly traversed the short distance to Wilverton. When they entered Lady Prescott's drawing room, she rose up from her settee, and said, "At last! I had quite given you up! I have been suffering fears of my poor dear Ralph stuck in that dreadful snow, all on a mission for me!"

"My dear, we are so sorry!" cried Maude. "Emily would go out traipsing in the snow keeping poor dear Lord Ralph waiting. I do hope no harm has come to the horses!"

"Well, it is enough that you are finally here. I have never been so bored with only my son for company! You have no idea how many dreadfully dull books I have had to read! Emily, I long for some music."

After first greeting Lady Prescott, Emily had gone straight before the fire in an attempt to get the chill out of her bones. She wished she could remove her little half-boots and rub her frozen feet, but that would have been impossible in company. She held her hands out to the fire and looked at Lady Prescott. "Did you want me to play right away?"

"What do you think child?" asked Lady Prescott. "I have heard no music in three weeks. What else would you be doing?"

"Of course, Lady Prescott," said Emily, walking over to the pianoforte. "I would not want to deprive you a moment longer," she added in an under-voice. Luckily Lady Prescott was addressing her mother again and her uncivil comment went unheard. Emily wondered at herself that she had actually voiced her thoughts like that.

The room was large and ill heated. The pianoforte was far enough from the hearth to be completely away from the fire's warmth. Emily blew on her fingers and began to play, first stiltedly, and then with her usual smoothly flowing dexterity. The music swirled around her and she forgot Lady Prescott and her impatience, her mother and her criticism, and Lord Ralph and his thoughtlessness. She found herself outside in a snowy clearing, making angels in the snow, and she was not alone. Her companion had a slow, soft smile, and the warmest green eyes she could ever hope to see.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The next few days Emily was unable to go for her walk. They were engaged every morning at Wilverton and stayed for luncheon, Lady Prescott not wanting to be forced to read another dull book. Lord Ralph joined them quite often, subjecting himself voluntarily to Emily's playing. To avoid conversing with the ladies, he opted to sit on the bench with Emily and turn her pages. The first time Emily thanked him, he responded, "It's a dashed bore playing at billiards by oneself, but I'll be blessed if I'm going to spend my time listening to gabble-mongering instead." His attempts to converse with her whilst she played were distracting and she thoroughly wished that he would just go away. His closeness on the bench was unnerving, and his constant fidgeting an annoyance.

Maude Sidford gazed upon them and thought what a good thing it was that this snow was enabling the two to enjoy so much time together, without the other girls to draw Lord Ralph's interest away from Emily. If only Emily weren't so quiet and reserved. She was in better looks lately, but she still did nothing to attract her fiancé. Maude's greatest fear was that Lord Ralph should fall in love with someone else. She knew that Emily could be prevailed upon to break the engagement if Lord Ralph were to ask it of her. If that happened they would be done for. Luckily, Ralph was now more attentive to her daughter than he had ever been in the past. She smiled a warm, satisfied smile and turned to Penelope to discuss bridal clothes.

By the end of the week, Bertram and Sophie had taken to joining them, and the gentlemen spent most of their time in the billiard room. Sophie either entered enthusiastically into the older ladies' gossip, or sat on the bench and chattered to Emily. Her attempts at singing a duet were not received favourably by Lady Prescott who insisted she had a headache and needed something quiet to soothe her nerves. Sophie would have liked to breach the male stronghold but had to be content with waiting till luncheon for their company.

After the meal, the gentlemen opted to stay in the drawing room with the ladies. Sophie did her best to capture all of Lord Ralph's attention but she could not ignore the frowning glares he would direct at her brother who was conversing animatedly with Emily.

"Do not resent Bertie's kindness to Emily," said Sophie in Lord Ralph's ear. "He does it only to give you and I more time for quiet conversation."

He turned to look at her. How sweetly expressive were her eyes! "Bertie would do that for you? I hadn't thought he was a caring brother. It's my belief he is trying to win Emily from me."

Sophie gave a light little laugh. "Bertie? Oh! He's quite disinterested, I assure you. It is that sly Olivia who has caught his attention."

"That coxcomb won't make any headway with her either. She has much more refined tastes!"

Sophie wasn't pleased with the direction the conversation was taking. She did not want to discuss either Emily or Olivia with Lord Ralph; she wanted to be the focus of the conversation. "To be sure, but what think you of my gown? When Mme Fanchot showed me this cloth I thought immediately that it was just such a colour as you would like."

Ralph turned and looked at Emily and Bertie, and then said in a low voice, "You thought of me when you chose the colour?"

"Of course."

"It makes the blue of your eyes even more tantalising," he whispered. "Oh how you tempt me!"

"Lord Ralph!" she said with a maidenly blush. "Does that mean you like it?" She gazed at him coyly.

"More than I have any right to say."

She smiled complacently and looked at him through her lashes. "That is really up to you, my lord."

Lord Ralph was finding it difficult to breathe so it was just as well that at that moment Bertie claimed his attention.

The following day, the weather started to break. Temperatures rose and clouds rolled in. Emily was finally able to take the gig to the parsonage, the first Saturday in a long while that she had managed to visit her friend. As she tooled the gig along the narrow lanes, Emily noticed the hedges were dripping. Every so often big clumps of snow would slip from the bushes to come plopping down in front of the gig. Alice squealed in laughter when she was barely missed by a sliding mass of snow. The lane was slushy under Shadow's hooves. The clouds, ever increasing, became heavy and dark looking. The gig turned into the parsonage drive as the first drops of rain began to fall. Emily pulled her hood over her head and ran with Alice for the door, while the Chesterton's groom led her carriage to the stables.

"I fear we shall not be able to go out for a while," said Emily as Ruth divested her of her cloak. "It has begun to rain." From the parlour window it was evident that the rain was already falling heavily.

"Let us hope it is of short duration," said Ruth as she offered Emily a chair near the fire. "How have you been, trapped at home by all this snow? I have missed you so!"

"And I you," said Emily. "We saw nobody until Monday when Lord Ralph came to carry me to Wilverton, and we have been obliged to visit there every day since. It is so nice to be in your warm parlour again!"

"We have had few visitors ourselves. Our first was Mr. Warrington, but since then we have had many people come in from the village and Mr. Turnbull has been able to resume his studies with papa."

Emily wanted so much to ask how James had looked and what he had to say, but dared not. "Then you are luckier than I for you have enjoyed a much more varied company."

Ruth smiled sympathetically and got out her workbox. They had many projects for the poor in that box, and they both set about stitching industriously and chatting comfortably. The rain continued heavily all afternoon with no sign of letting up. As the room darkened and the candles were lit, a note was brought in to Ruth. She read it with a look of disappointment steadily growing.

"What is it?" asked Emily in some concern.

"It's from Mr. Warrington. The party from Wortham Lodge will not be able to attend. The rain is too heavy, and he has to attend to a problem on one of the tenant farms. Mr. Turnbull is going with him and will not join us either." Ruth sighed. She knew that her two friends had not seen each other since the assembly and she had so wanted to bring them together tonight. The lack of Mr. Braithwaite's or Miss Rutherford's company did not affect her in the least.

Emily misunderstood Ruth's sigh and despondent look. She rushed to her side and took her hand, stroking it reassuringly.

"I am so sorry he is not able to come, for your sake. I'm certain he will be able to handle himself out in the bad weather tonight. Please don't worry." She looked up consolingly into Ruth's brown eyes. They both knew she was not speaking of Mr. Turnbull.

"I think you are labouring under a misapprehension," said Ruth. "Emily, there is something I need to tell you."

Emily sat on the settle beside her and continued to hold her hand. "What have I misunderstood?" she asked.

"You have no doubt heard rumours to the effect that Mr. Warrington and I are courting. There is no truth to them."

"But even if he has not yet declared himself," said Emily in a slightly uneven voice, "there is an attachment." She could say no more. It had taken all her fortitude to say that much.

"Listen to me, Emily," said Ruth firmly. "Mr. Warrington and I are very good friends. I think him a fine man, but there is nothing more between us."

"How could you resist falling in love with him?" asked Emily, without even considering what she was saying. When she realised what she had just said she blushed profusely.

"I must let you in on a secret," said Ruth, looking deeply into Emily's eyes. "I am already in love with another. We have a sort of an understanding, but we are not engaged."

Emily drew in her breath sharply, but no words came.

"I hope I have not shocked you!" said Ruth, smiling.

"Oh, no! It is only that I am so surprised. You have kept your secret very well. I had no idea . . ."

"You must remember Mr. Grantham."

Emily thought back and recalled the earnest young man that had been Mr. Chesterton's pupil many years ago. He had gone on to Oxford and not been in Barstow much the last few years.

"When he is appointed to a living he will propose to me," continued Ruth, blushing slightly. "Until then, I am content to wait, but I do agree with you. It would be hard for anyone who knows him not to fall in love with Mr. Warrington if she were not already in love."

There was a profound silence. Emily knew not what to say. Ruth's words repeated themselves in her head, revolving over and over. ‘If she were not already in love.' Emily was lost in thought until dinnertime, and Ruth was content to keep it that way. She had given Emily much to think on, and she could only hope that her thoughts would soon direct themselves down the most obvious of paths. It was high time she discovered the truth of her own feelings.

That evening the rain had not abated. A note was sent to Barstow Hall, and Emily stayed the night. The next morning, after church, Emily returned home with her family in their closed carriage. A groom was left to drive Alice home through the rain in the gig. Emily sat back and tried to ignore her mother's complaints. She could only think of one thing. James had not been at church. She had even turned to look during the service, but he was not where he should have been. He was nowhere to be seen when she walked down the aisle and out of the church. He had never missed attending a service before. She hoped he was not ill.

It rained for three days solid. The snow was turned to mush and washed away. Ditches choked and overflowed their banks. Roadways became waterways. Fields and cellars flooded. Emily knew that James must be very busy ensuring that livestock were safe and soil was not washed away, and who knows what else. She acknowledged that six months earlier she would have given none of that a thought. She would only have worried about being denied her daily walk and felt grateful for a reprieve from visits to Wilverton. Wilverton. She felt it hanging like a weight about her neck. Ever since her talk with Ruth, she had felt a measure of relief and a great deal of confusion. She still was haunted by Ruth's words. ‘If she were not already in love.' Emily did not believe in love. Well, not regarding herself. She knew without the shadow of a doubt that she did not feel anything akin to love for Lord Ralph. Beyond that her mind was as yet unwilling to travel. It just whirled and whirled, like a tempest going nowhere.

By Friday morning there had been no rain for two days, and the lanes had ceased to run with water. Emily put on her sturdiest half-boots and decided to take her chances out of doors. She held her skirts as high as modesty would allow and made her way along her accustomed path through the park. The grass was sodden. There was not a place to step that her feet did not sink into the saturated earth. Emily did her full best to avoid the muddiest spots and skirted the deepest puddles, but still, when she arrived to the gate, she was soaked to the ankle and her white stockings above her boots had a grey stain rising up towards her shins. Her cloak was damp from brushing against wet branches, her hood had fallen back, and her hair was in disarray. She climbed to stand on the bottom rail and looked over the gate expectantly.

James was not in sight. The lane on the other side of the gate was a muddy mess and looked as if a horse had recently trampled it. Had he been here already, and waited and left? Emily climbed up to sit on the top bar, leaned against the post, and pulled her cloak firmly about her. A cold wind was blustering through the open space. The fields across the way, on the other side of the hedge, were as if a shallow lake. Birds circled, landed, and flew off, in constant motion. The hills in the distance were blurred by cloud. Indistinct. The grey sky had gained a burgeoning heaviness. It was only through great effort that Emily kept her resolve to wait, and after a half-hour she was duly rewarded. She heard a horse coming from the opposite direction. She turned to look, grasping the fence-post for support and saw James and Sophocles cantering towards her. James raised his hand, and she returned his greeting, smiling now as she had not done all day. Suddenly she was no longer aware of the cold that was seeping throughout her body.

"I was afraid I had missed you," she cried as soon as he was close enough for conversation.

James slipped off Sophocles back and came up to her. He was looking worn and mud spattered, and there were tired lines upon his face. "I have been by once and am now on my way back from my errand. Please say you have not been out in this wind long."

"Not long at all," said Emily. "I was sorry not to see you at the parsonage on Saturday, or at church the next morning."

"I wanted to come, but a clogged drainage ditch put a tenant's cottage in danger of being flooded out. We worked for most of the night, and after a short rest were back out to deal with more flooding in the morning."

"Are you keeping well? You do look very tired," said Emily, her concern evident in her voice.

James looked up at her and smiled. "It is nothing that a little sleep won't cure."

Emily looked a bit conscious. "I must thank you for the pretty wreath you made for me, and the charming fellow you left sitting upon the gate to greet me," she said shyly.

"I'm happy that they pleased you. I very much liked the companion you made for my gentleman. He told me he was well entertained. They enjoyed a merry week together until the rain drove them off." James smiled at the laugh that this produced. "You must be very cold," he said, taking her hand and rubbing it gently.

"It was foolish for me to come without gloves, but really I am quite warm"

"I can see that you are not," said James. "It is a wonder your teeth are not chattering. I am very selfish to keep you talking here." He took hold of her other hand and rubbed that too. The urge to take her in his arms was tempting, but he overrode it and contented himself with bringing some warmth back to her icy fingers.

"Thank you, I feel much warmer now," said Emily, smiling softly down at him.

James reluctantly let her hands go. "How have you been filling your time?" he asked.

"Not as industriously as you, I am afraid. Sewing and reading and playing piano. Once the roads were clear we visited Wilverton daily to ease Lady Prescott's boredom, and I called on Ruth on Saturday and was trapped overnight by the rain. I was exceedingly pleased to see her after not seeing her for over a month." Emily longed to say, ‘and I am more pleased to see you, finally, after an even longer time,' but could not bring herself to do so. In the silence that followed her unsaid words seemed to hang in the air. A spattering of rain brought them both to a realisation of their surroundings again.

"You must go; you'll get wet," James said.

"I'm already wet," said Emily, but she dutifully slipped off the gate.

Sophocles, who had been feeling left out up to this point, nudged his head in for a nose rub. "Goodbye, old thing," she whispered in his ear. "Take good care of your master."

James reached over the fence to Emily and pulled her hood gently up over her hair. "You must go," he repeated, as the rain started to pelt down. He stood and watched as she caught her skirts up and ran down the path through the showering rain. He turned to Sophocles and said, "So what secret did she tell you, my friend?"

Sophocles blew gently into his chest, but kept the secret to himself.

Bonus:

By Friday morning there had been no rain for two days, and the lanes had ceased to run with water. Emily put on her sturdiest half-boots and decided to take her chances out of doors. Unfortunately, she put on the wrong halves, and while her shins and calves were well protected, her stockings were soon cut to ribbons on the sharp gravel. She cried out in pain when a sharp wedge of flint bit deeply into her heel, causing her to stumble, loose her balance, and go careening into a rather shoddily built garden wall. The wall, while thankfully cushioning her fall, happened to bury an elderly hound on the other side when it collapsed. She could hear the old cur howl in pain and anguish beneath the rubble, and since she could see no one else in the vicinity, knelt beside the pile and began, to her best of her ability, to dig the poor beast out. Alyson, I have been killing myself laughing for two full minutes. The things you find on the computer when you leave a file open! I will, however, try to continue without burying any dogs in rubble.

Chapter Thirty-Six

James found himself working well into the middle of the night, seven days a week, to repair the damage done by the snow, frost, and floods. Fields were drained, ditches re-dug, and muddy sludge dredged from the cellars and floors of most of the houses upon the estate. On top of that, the normal February work had to be attended to. Hedgers were out with their billhooks, trimming up the hedges and cutting out dead wood. Crews of young boys were collecting and stacking the faggots, and labourers were thinning the coppices and clearing windfall out of the home woods.

James found little time for socialising and left his cousins to do the rounds without him. In the evenings he would hear all the local news, whether he wanted to or not. His work took him past the park gate once in the course of a week, and he waited a good half-hour, but Emily did not appear, nor was there anything to indicate that she had visited the spot since their last meeting. He managed to complete work early the following Saturday, and honour his engagement at the parsonage. Olivia and Percy were certain that this determination stemmed from his desire to see Miss Chesterton, and he failed to correct them. Let them think what they may as long as their thoughts did not fall upon Emily.

Much to James' disappointment, Emily was not at the parsonage. Ruth informed him that Miss Sidford was indisposed with a cold, which her mother blamed on her insistence on taking walks in the inclement weather, an indulgence that would no longer be allowed. James felt a pang of guilt. She had come out to see him across very wet ground that day and she had been caught in the rain. He remembered just how cold her hands were. He had been selfish to keep her out there, talking; he should have sent her back home straight away. Although it would mean no hope of seeing her alone for some time, James had to reluctantly agree that there was wisdom in her mother's decision. The path in the park was still as waterlogged and muddy as ever.

James resigned himself to another week of intensive labour without the fleeting meetings with Emily to bring refreshment to his days. In the evenings he joined his Aunt and Uncle in quiet conversation in the drawing room. His cousins proved that they could be enjoyable company when the desire took them, and the gatherings had a convivial family feel about them. Whenever the gentlemen were on their own, however, Percy took great pleasure in regaling James with his exploits.

"That Miss Sophie is a saucy little puss, as willing to flirt with me as Lord Ralph, but I believe I have the stronger claim. I am, after all, not betrothed. I look forward to the next assembly. I will win her away from him completely. The balcony shall be her undoing!"

"Is it really wise to proceed with this foolish wager?" asked James. "Did you ever consider someone might be hurt in the process?"

"It's just a bit of bobbery, besides, I don't believe any of the parties involved have a heart," said Percy flippantly. "Now, Miss Sidford is different."

James stiffened at the mention of Emily's name, but luckily Percy was preoccupied with pouring himself another drink.

"She's resolved to be faithful to Lord Ralph even though I'd go bail she don't care a fig for him. Neither Bertie I nor can get anywhere with her, and Lord knows we've tried. I think the both of us have developed quite a tendre into the bargain."

"I think it's time you two mutton-heads laid off!" said James brusquely.

"Draw bridle! What's got you in the hips?" asked Percy, looking at James intently.

"Your idea of sport! Why seek to attract a lady who's engaged? Stick to Sophie Farquar - at least she's available, should you wish to offer for her."

Percy laughed. "When I'm hanging out for a wife I'll look to a girl like Miss Sidford, not a cheap little flirt like Miss Sophie."

At that moment Olivia entered the room, in time to catch the tail end of Percy's comment. "Percy you are so tiresome!" she said. "It contents you to flirt madly with the girl, and yet you criticise her for it afterward. You deserve to marry someone like her."

"You are at the same game, dear sister," murmured Percy. "Don't tell me you have the deepest respect for your cicisbei!"

"Cisisbei! I am not a married lady surrounded by my ardent flock! I should not even call them beaux. Lord, I am tired of this sport. Why do we continue to amuse ourselves thus, Percy? I no longer find it entertaining." She sighed. "Lord Ralph is a conceited slow-top and Bertie is a . . . jobbernoll! And Sophie a feather-brained pea-goose. The only times I feel I am in sensible company is when we visit the parsonage or stay here with our dear Aunt and Uncle."

"What flummery is this? You used to be game as a pebble! Why, I saw you playing those fools off each other as handily as can be last night."

"Stringing them on is such a bore. I'm only doing it now to show Lord Ralph up to Emily. If she can see how he follows the petticoats maybe she will reconsider marriage to him."

"And give up his fortune! What a hoax. You want it for yourself," laughed Percy.

"There are things I would be unwilling to put up with in a husband, no matter the title and fortune he brings to the match, and flirting with all and sundry is one of them. Emily is a sensible girl; she can't want to marry the lummox just for his money. She can't be blinded by his handsome face or title, for I'm sure she has no amorous feelings towards him." Olivia paused and looked at her two companions, ready to further her argument if they seemed unconvinced.

James could contain himself no longer. "If it is your motive to open Miss Sidford's eyes to his character, do you not think it would be more prudent to throw a warning in her ear rather than playing off your tricks?"

"I have never tried a straightforward approach before," said Olivia contemplatively. "That would be quite a novelty; it is usually such fun to make a game of it. Truly cousin, I do not know what has become of me this winter. By now I should be impatient to be in London, flat bored with all this isolation, ready for any foolery Percy has in mind, but I find I am content to sit and embroider with Aunt Felicity, listening to Sir Edward's tales of Colhaven."

"That is the veriest clanker!" cried Percy.

"It is the simple truth," said Olivia.

"If so," said James, looking at her steadily, "I am most pleased to hear it."

The following Saturday, they dined again at the parsonage. James' heart leapt to his throat when he saw Emily sitting by the fire, looking a little wan. Her complexion had paled considerably and she appeared thinner and rather pensive. More as she had been when he had first come to know her. Her countenance brightened upon seeing him, and a smile came to her face, bringing back the look of warmth he had grown used to. He could not help himself, but walked over immediately to enquire how she did. Percy followed close upon his heels and interrupted James' caring questions with his own fatuous sallies about her unimpaired looks, and then quickly seated himself beside her. After giving Emily a look of empathy, there was no more James could do but walk away to greet his host and hostess.

The evening was not a success for James. He had been so concerned for Emily's well-being, and filled with such longing to see her, that he could barely trust himself to speak with her, though they were seated side by side at the dinner table. Olivia, who was seated across from Emily, seemed determined to monopolise the conversation, directing questions to both James and Emily, giving neither of them the opportunity for private conversation.

When the gentlemen were left to their port, James turned to Robbie Turnbull and said, "I have a proposition to make you. I received a letter today from my brother George. He is being sent to Burma, and desires me to find someone to oversee his estate. It is not a large property, and I feel you would be more than capable of the job."

Robbie's eyes lit up. "Are you sure you can spare me?"

"I think I have won the confidence of all my tenants, and the other farmers in the district. Your help has been invaluable, but I've cut my eye teeth now!"

"That you have!" said Robbie, grinning. "My dad will be right pleased. Thank you, sir."

"Your father has every right to be proud of you. I will write to my brother by the next post. Come to my office tomorrow and I will give you all the particulars."

They soon joined the ladies; the gentlemen did not feel the need to stay long over their port as only Sir Edward and Percy were partaking of it. Robbie did not find it to his taste, preferring ale, and James was content to wait for the tea, as was his habit. The topic of discussion in the drawing room was the coming assembly, and Mrs. Chesterton asked the gentlemen if they would all be attending.

"Work permitting," said Robbie Turnbull jovially as he took a seat beside his hostess. "I have a hard taskmaster! First he keeps me in the fields morning to night, and now he is talking of sending me to deepest Bedfordshire!"

"I would not miss it for the world," said Percy. "I have sent to London for the new coat Weston has made me. I expect to turn a lot of heads. It is not only the ladies that are interested in making a splash at such events." He laughed at his own wit.

" And what about you, Mr. Warrington?" urged Ruth. "We have not heard your plans."

"I am undecided as yet," he said, and suffered a pang of remorse as Emily's face fell.

"Of course he will come!" said Olivia. "I will not allow him to turn into a recluse. Cousin James, how could you wish me to attend with only my brother to squire me? I shall be counting on your attention."

In his head James knew that he must stand firm and not give in to Olivia's demands or, more importantly, Emily's pinched expression. The last assembly had been difficult enough for him, and he knew only too well that he had allowed his feelings to slip their bounds. To run beyond anything he had ever intended. It pained him too much to see Emily in company with Lord Ralph and to know that she would soon be lost to him. He did not trust his heart, it had already led him much too far off course, but he inadvertently looked at Emily. That was his undoing. He saw the gleam of hope within her eyes, and his treacherous heart took over his reason.

"I will come, then."

The instant joy that spread across Emily's face was more than gratifying, but James' reason immediately returned and he knew he had made a disastrous mistake.

Olivia didn't fail to notice the expression on either face, and she quickly drew her own conclusions.

© 2002, 2003 Copyright held by the author.

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