A Country Gentleman (10 page)

‘It would not vex me if you did so now; in fact, it would please me.’

‘Then I will do so; and please call me Lavinia again.’

He inclined his head. ‘Before we go into the house, I must ask you one more thing: tell me that you are no longer in
communication
with Lord Riseholm.’

‘Lord Thurlby … Victor …’ She turned away from him, but he caught hold of her arm, not roughly, but firmly, causing her to turn back and face him.

‘I must insist upon knowing. Have you communicated with Riseholm since your arrival here?’

She coloured, but looked him straight in the eye. ‘I have not,’ she told him. ‘Nor will I do so.’

He let go of her. ‘Then I am satisfied,’ he said. He smiled at her. Involuntarily, she smiled back. ‘I think it must be time for
breakfast
. Shall we go in?’ He offered her his arm and, after a little hesitation, she took it.

After they had had breakfast, Lavinia said to Isobel rather diffidently, ‘I was wondering whether you would mind if I wandered into the village this morning? I was telling Miss Tasker at the table yesterday about a book in my possession which I believed she might find interesting, I thought that I might take it to her if you have no objection.’

‘None whatsoever,’ Isobel answered carelessly. ‘In fact, I might join you. We could drop into the vicarage on our way back.’ She patted her curls. ‘I really thought that I made something of an impression on the vicar yesterday. I would like to fix my picture in his mind.’

As Lavinia went upstairs, she found herself hoping that Isobel would not come with her, although of course she could not say
so. She felt a little disloyal for thinking this way, but she found the way that Isobel always regarded other women’s men as possible prey a little tiresome. It was therefore with something akin to relief that she discovered Mr Hawkfield had called while she was putting on her bonnet, and that Isobel intended to stroll about the garden with him instead of walking to the village. Now, at least, she could enjoy a pleasant, uninterrupted conversation with Miss Tasker, whom she had judged to be a congenial acquaintance who could, with time, become a good friend.

‘Pray give Caroline my love,’ said Miss Wheatman, who was engaged upon the weekly inspection of the linen, which she had undertaken on the countess’s behalf. ‘And do tell her about the grasses that we found. She will be most interested.’

The little schoolhouse was joined to the village school by one wall, and comprised a kitchen and one other room downstairs, with a steep flight of stairs going straight up from the tiny hall.

Miss Tasker was delighted to see Lavinia, and her face beamed with pleasure. ‘I was hoping that we might be able to continue our conversation,’ she confessed. ‘I thought you seemed to be a very interesting person.’

‘That is quite strange, for I was thinking exactly the same thing about you,’ Lavinia replied. They both laughed.

Miss Tasker was pleased that Lavinia had remembered to bring the book that they had been discussing, and for a time, the talk was all of books and poetry. ‘It is so delightful to find someone who shares one’s interests,’ Caroline Tasker confessed eventually. ‘Timothy enjoys a good novel, but he is not very fond of poetry.’

‘Isobel isn’t fond of any kind of reading,’ said Lavinia frankly.

‘How is it that you come to be acquainted with her?’ Caroline asked.

Lavinia explained that they were schoolfriends, and that their fathers had both been attached to embassies overseas, thereby giving them something in common. ‘Isobel is very good really;
and very generous in lots of ways,’ said Lavinia. There was a ‘but’ hanging in the air. Neither of them voiced it.

‘Shall we have some tea?’ said Caroline. ‘Do you have time to stay a little longer?’

‘Yes indeed,’ replied Lavinia, following the schoolmistress into the kitchen, where she began to gather together the things needed to make a pot of tea. ‘Isobel had been intending to accompany me, but as she was about to go upstairs for her bonnet, Mr Hawkfield arrived.’

‘He is a very handsome young man,’ said Caroline in a
matter-of
-fact tone. ‘Was Miss Macclesfield acquainted with him before you came here?’

Lavinia shook her head. She nearly said something about her friend’s relationship with Hawkfield’s uncle, but stopped herself in time. It was too early in their acquaintance for her to be expecting Miss Tasker to keep secrets for her. After a moment’s hesitation she simply said, ‘I’m afraid that Isobel is a terrible flirt. The fact that a gentleman may be already spoken for does not seem to matter to her. It is almost as if she constantly needs to prove her ability to attract.’

Caroline turned to look at her, the teapot in her hand. She smiled ruefully. ‘I had already suspected it,’ she said. ‘And Timothy is very handsome, too.’

‘Don’t you mind?’ asked Lavinia curiously.

‘I feel sorry for her,’ was the surprising response. ‘I’m also anxious that she should not make a fool of herself; but I do not fear for my engagement, if that is what you mean. Timothy and I are in love, you see.’ She paused and looked at Lavinia’s startled expression. ‘You are astonished. Many people are. They find it hard to believe that a handsome man like Timothy could have fallen in love with a plain little woman like me.’

‘I assure you that that is not what I think,’ Lavinia replied honestly. Her surprise had been at the other woman’s frankness, rather than at what she had disclosed. ‘I think you have a pleasing
countenance. The person who judges on appearances only is superficial indeed, but many people do marry for reasons other than love.’

‘You are very kind,’ said Caroline, as she finished preparing the tea and arranged some biscuits on a plate. ‘Some more of my own baking,’ she added with a twinkle.

‘Then I shall have one with pleasure, for the ones that we had the other day were delicious.’

‘They are Timothy’s favourites.’

When they were sitting down, Caroline said, ‘Ours was not a love match to begin with; at least, it was on my part, but not on Timothy’s. I had been attracted to him from the very first when he came to my father as his curate. When he proposed, I accepted, knowing that at that point he only saw me as a useful helpmeet. Half a loaf is better than no bread, you see.

‘It was only when by chance he called upon me in a
thunderstorm
and found me in some distress that he realized his feelings were stronger than esteem. He has told me since that he had always thought me equal to anything. He found it quite endearing to discover that there was something that could confound me.’

‘It seems to me that an attachment begun in the way that you have described must have a great chance of success,’ said Lavinia, after a brief silence. ‘Marriages based on passion alone may well turn cold when passion fades; but a marriage that was built first on esteem and mutual respect – these are qualities that will last a lifetime.’

Caroline smiled warmly. ‘That has always been my opinion,’ she said.

They talked for some time, touching on a variety of topics, and finding a degree of similarity in one another’s views. Eventually, the talk got round to Miss Wheatman.

‘I love her dearly,’ said Caroline, ‘but there is no denying that she is a little inclined to fuss.’

‘She asked me to tell you about all the grasses that we managed to gather the other day,’ said Lavinia. ‘I am afraid that I cannot tell you about them in such detail as she would like.’

Caroline laughed. ‘Pray do not even try,’ she said. ‘Grasses are not one of my interests. Her tendency to expatiate upon her current hobby horse can be a little tedious in ordinary
conversation
.’

‘I had thought that searching for grasses would be very dull,’ Lavinia responded, ‘but by the time we had finished, I had
discovered
that there was a good deal more to the subject than I ever would have believed.’

‘She really is very knowledgeable,’ Caroline agreed. ‘She
sometimes
comes to the school and gives the children a botany lesson for me.’

‘I cannot hope to rival her in that area, but I would love to come and help you in some other way,’ said Lavinia. ‘Would you like me to come and sew with the children, perhaps?’

The schoolmistress readily accepted this suggestion, and they parted with mutual expressions of pleasure and esteem.

As she walked back to the Hall, the book safely delivered, and one that Caroline had lent her tucked under her arm, Lavinia decided to say nothing to Isobel about this conversation. She would be very unlikely to believe that the vicar and the schoolmistress were actually in love; and if she thought for a moment that it could be true, she might want to flex her muscles all the more to see if she could enslave him. That could only result in embarrassment at best, and heartache at worst. Far better for Lavinia to keep this knowledge to herself.

Chapter Ten

W
hether because of the vicar’s prayers, or for some other reason, the day of the outing to Folkingham Castle dawned bright and clear.
Now
that dowdy spinster will see what I am made of, Isobel said to herself as she put the finishing touches to her
appearance
. She had on a gown which she had hardly worn, and then only in London. It was made of muslin, low cut, and of a dazzling white that is seldom seen, sprigged with tiny silver flowers. When Isobel came to find her, Lavinia had to admit that it was undoubtedly becoming, if highly impractical for a day that was to be spent
scrambling
about ruins. If the vicar was ever to have his head turned, then it would be by that gown. The finishing touches to Isobel’s outfit were added by a charming straw bonnet with silver ribbons and white and blue flowers, and a parasol of blue and white.

By way of contrast, Lavinia was in an older gown of pink and white striped cotton, with a bonnet of a similar age trimmed with pink flowers and tied with white ribbons. She had also taken care to put on stout boots, which were in marked contrast to Isobel’s dainty kid slippers.

‘You will not be able to do much scrambling about in those,’ Lavinia pointed out.

‘Perhaps not; but boots like yours would ruin the look of my outfit completely,’ Isobel replied. ‘Besides, if there are any
obstacles
, no doubt some gentleman will lift me over them.’

‘One may not be on hand at the time,’ Lavinia reminded her.

‘I shall make sure that one is,’ answered Isobel mysteriously. She had slipped down to the Horseshoe and collected a letter from Lord Riseholm the previous day. Just the sight of his firm, sloping handwriting did more to set her heart beating than an entire conversation with Timothy Ames, or an evening spent in Lord Thurlby’s company. She had taken a letter of her own at the same time. After today’s expedition, she would have more to write – perhaps even, a tantalizing account of a tryst with the handsome vicar! That would make his rakeship give a thought to what he was missing.

If only Benjamin Twizzle had not discovered her secret
correspondence
with Lord Riseholm! His appearance at the inn had been the most tiresome stroke of bad luck. She had managed to scrape together twenty pounds, but very much resented the
necessity
of handing it over. Her meeting with Twizzle today was yet another reason for looking her best. She had not yet met a man whom she could not twist around her little finger. A little
flirtation
and perhaps even a kiss would no doubt be sufficient to appease him. Then she could keep the twenty pounds for
something
far more important. Giving up her correspondence with Riseholm was out of the question. She did not dare think too deeply about why this might be the case.

On descending to the hall, they found Miss Wheatman and Lord Thurlby waiting for them. Miss Wheatman had dressed practically; unlike Lavinia, however, for whatever reason she had not been able to combine practical considerations with
stylishness
. Her drab brown gown was at least twenty years out of date and did not go with her black boots or her straw bonnet with its blue ribbons. Whatever her appearance, she looked happy to be going, and had with her a number of books.

‘We need not waste the journey, for I can make it very
instructive
,’ she assured them.

‘That is very good of you, ma’am,’ answered the earl, ‘but
remember that the young ladies have not been on this journey before. They will want to concentrate on what they see about them.’ He looked much as he always did, well dressed, but comfortable, in a dark-blue coat with tan breeches and top boots. In his hand, he carried a broad-brimmed hat.

‘Very true,’ Miss Wheatman agreed. ‘I will save them for the return journey.’

‘Allow me to hold you for them,’ said the earl politely, as they waited for the carriage to be brought round. As they were all getting ready to climb into the barouche, he surreptitiously laid them down on a chair in the hall. Miss Wheatman was very well meaning, but he had no intention of spending either journey listening to her reading from some instructive book! He thought that nobody had seen him thus engaged, but when he looked around, he caught Lavinia’s eyes upon him, and grinned ruefully. She was obliged to hide her answering expression of amusement.

The plan was that they should collect Mr Ames and Miss Tasker from the vicarage. Mr Hawkfield and Mr Laver would meet them at the Horseshoe, and travel alongside on horseback. The barouche was large enough to take six comfortably but certainly not eight. When they arrived outside the vicarage, the vicar and his betrothed were ready and waiting. Isobel had never supposed that Miss Tasker’s appearance would rival her own, and she was pleased to note that she was correct in her supposition. The schoolmistress was dressed in a faded cotton gown, sprigged with golden flowers, and an old bonnet tied with yellow ribbon. Like Lavinia and Miss Wheatman, she was wearing sensible boots.

Lavinia and Isobel were sitting facing the horses, whilst Lord Thurlby and Miss Wheatman had their backs to them. When Miss Tasker and the vicar joined them, therefore, the former took her place next to the young ladies, leaving the vicar to join Thurlby and Miss Wheatman on the backward facing seat. This suited Isobel very well, for it meant that she was able to catch the eye of Mr Ames, and bat her lashes at him.

Once they had reached the Horseshoe, however, she gained more targets for her languorous glances, for both Mr Laver and Mr Hawkfield showed by appreciative looks how impressed they were with her appearance.

‘All at once, the sun appears to have become more dazzling,’ said Hawkfield, surveying all the ladies in turn, but allowing his gaze to linger finally on Isobel.

‘Perhaps you should stay behind, then, if your eyes cannot cope,’ Isobel suggested.

‘Heaven forbid,’ he replied, grinning roguishly. ‘Doubtless I shall soon become accustomed to the brightness.’

The journey was a pleasant one, as Lord Thurlby had predicted, taking them as it did through the bustling market town of Bourne, and then into some pleasant countryside. The weather remained good, the blue sky clear but for a few white fluffy clouds, and a light breeze saving the day from being sultry. Lavinia was
interested
to notice how frequently Lord Thurlby was obliged to acknowledge salutations from people walking, riding, or, like themselves, driving. Of course, as a prominent landowner who spent much of his time in this region, this was not altogether surprising. Nevertheless, Lavinia could not help contrasting this outing with one that she had made with friends of her aunt and uncle twelve months before.

On that visit, the three of them had gone out for a drive with Sir Antony Frew and his wife in the barouche belonging to the baronet. They had driven around their host’s estate, but he had barely acknowledged the various greetings and reverences that had been paid to him by his tenants and others, limiting himself to a curt nod or a careless wave.

Lord Thurlby, on the other hand, really turned towards the person whom he was greeting, and returned every smile with another. It was a perfect display of cordiality, finely balanced with dignity.

‘Who was that?’ Miss Wheatman asked, as Thurlby raised a
hand of greeting to a very broad, vigorous-looking man in his twenties on foot, who had saluted him in passing.

‘A local farmer, Joe Habgood by name,’ Thurlby answered. ‘He recently inherited the property from his father.’

‘He looks like a bit of a bruiser to me,’ said Hawkfield, having eyed the young man measuringly. ‘I’d like to see him in the ring.’

‘I don’t think you ever would,’ Thurlby told him. ‘There have been a number of attempts to persuade him, but he insists that he’s too peaceable by nature.’

‘Not enough money offered, no doubt,’ Hawkfield surmised. Thurlby did not make any further comment, but contented himself with a wry smile.

Lavinia wondered whether Sir Antony would have been anything like as knowledgeable about any of his tenants or
neighbours
.

The village of Folkingham was very pretty, having a broad main street, with some very fine houses either side, as well as more humble dwellings, and an imposing coach house at the top of the street, called the Greyhound.

‘We are on the main road from Bourne to Lincoln,’ Lord Thurlby explained, ‘so it is not surprising that this place should seek to provide well for travellers.’

As well as the Greyhound, there were one or two lesser
establishments
, including a chocolate shop, which the ladies all said that they would like to visit later. When they reached the top of the street, the Lincoln road veered off to the right, but the coachman steered them round to the left and through another part of the village. Ahead of them lay the church, a fine building with a spire, and Mr Ames expressed a desire to look around it if there was time. Lavina was not surprised when Isobel endorsed this wish with enthusiasm.

It was as they descended a slight incline after passing the church that the castle came into sight. It was of grey stone, which
could easily take on a gloomy look on a wet evening in November, but on this day, with the sun shining down and picking out the odd fragments of glass here and there, it fairly sparkled, seeming to share in the general merriment of the outing.

‘I do hope that we did not have to ask anyone’s permission in order to visit here,’ said Miss Wheatman. ‘I should hate to be arrested for trespass.’

‘As I am a magistrate, I should certainly find it embarrassing,’ Lord Thurlby agreed. ‘However, there is no need to be concerned. The ownership of the place has passed to a local landowner, who is happy for visitors to explore it, as long as they do no damage.’

The structure had looked to be quite a small one, but as they drew closer, they could see that it was much more extensive than they had thought at first. Surrounded by a moat which was now empty, it was more in the way of being a fortified house, rather than a castle of classic design. The barouche drew round to the front of the castle and set them down at the entrance, which could be approached by crossing a bridge which was set over the moat. From where they were standing, they could see through the open arch into a grassy courtyard.

‘This is delightful,’ said Isobel, looking about her as they strolled across the bridge. ‘I declare that I could happily spend the rest of the day exploring.’

Lord Thurlby consulted his pocket watch. ‘We have a little time before we need think about nuncheon,’ he said. ‘Shall we have a look around, and then reconvene inside the courtyard in, say, an hour?’

‘That sounds eminently sensible,’ answered Miss Wheatman. ‘I have with me a written account of how and why buildings such as this came to be constructed. Would anyone care to sit down with me whilst I read the account out loud?’

More than one person of the party was wondering how to say that this idea did not appeal to them without being rude. To everyone’s great relief, however, Lord Thurlby said, ‘Were you
referring to those books that you handed to me? I laid them down on a table in the hall, but I fear that in all the excitement of departure, I failed to pick them up again. I do apologize.’

Miss Wheatman looked anxious. ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ she said. ‘I am afraid that I have let you all down.’ The rest of the company attempted to look downcast.

‘No, indeed, the fault is Lord Thurlby’s,’ said Lavinia. ‘For shame, my lord!’ Nevertheless she was obliged to hide a smile. She was impressed with the way in which he had managed to sound regretful without telling an untruth.

Their eyes met briefly. The earl’s lips twitched almost
imperceptibly
. ‘I am justly reproved,’ he said. ‘What is to be done?’

‘The day is too fine to spend in reading, Aunt Daisy,’ said Miss Tasker gently. ‘We can enjoy such information on a day when it is raining. It will give us something to do, as well as providing a reminder of better days.’

‘Very true, my dear,’ answered Miss Wheatman. ‘I think I can probably remember a good deal of what was written, in any case.’

‘Then perhaps you will enlighten me,’ said Thurlby with real heroism, as he gestured towards part of the gateway through which they had just walked. ‘What is the purpose of those
overhanging
segments of brick, for example?’

Miss Wheatman proceeded to offer him a careful explanation, whilst the rest of the party split up. Lavinia would also have liked to learn more about the place, but Isobel tucked a hand in her arm, and began to chatter animatedly. Lavinia was a little surprised to see with what equanimity the other girl watched the vicar walk away with Miss Tasker on his arm. She could only assume that her friend was planning an assault upon the
clergyman
after nuncheon.

To the casual onlooker, Isobel, Lavinia, Mr Hawkfield and Mr Laver made a lively group, as Isobel and Hawkfield in particular discovered mutual acquaintances, and chattered about the London scene. It must be said that as Isobel dictated the pace,
they did very little exploring of the ruins, owing to the dainty nature of her thin, kid slippers. By the time they all gathered together for nuncheon, the four young people had done little more than stroll around the grassy area in the centre of the keep.