Love's Way (15 page)

“No, not even such a dragon as
I
could find fault with that course.”

Emily’s interest was soon diverted by the antics of Lord Simian. I could only wonder at Gamble’s attachment to this child, so different from him in interest, in age, in temperament.

“When does that wandering brother of yours return?” he asked, when it was clear Emily was paying no heed to him.

“Any day now. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“I suppose you wonder at my offering for Emily before his return. I
tried
to wait, but he took too demmed long. Well, he does not own her anyway, as far as that goes.”

“You don’t have to justify your action to me.” Emily chased off a few yards after her monkey, making a little private conversation possible.

“I suppose it might seem odd to some, as she is so young. But I didn’t see any lady half so pretty in London,” he said, mooning after her with his eyes. I felt an urge to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.

“You were looking, were you?” is all I said.

He gave a bright, quizzical little look. “A bachelor is always
looking,
ma’am. Like a spinster in that respect, I should think. When he has been stuck off in the tropics for nearly half his life, with no English women but antidotes, the looking is very pleasurable indeed. I revel in all these peaches-and-cream complexions, blonde curls. Many’s the night I lay awake in the heat dreaming of cool English breezes and cool English ladies.”

“The ladies’ coolness does not discourage you then?”

“Not in the least. I dote on it.”

“I am happy the ladies came up to your expectations. The heat of this particular summer we feel is nearly tropical.”

“I am happy with both. What’s Wingdale up to?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“I have not seen him. My aunt has been ill, and I haven’t been out much.”

“I thought you looked a little peaky. I was afraid Tom was causing you more headaches,” he laughed, then went pacing off to help Emily retrieve the monkey from a tree. The animal rode on his shoulder, while Emily weighted down his other arm. I did not observe much coolness in her manner, but perhaps, like the weather, he was accustomed to more warmth from females.

Chapter Thirteen

There were two unforeseen and totally unexpected developments in the near future. Closest to home, Edward returned from his tour cured of being a poet. What a blessed relief it was! He looked so ragged when he came in the front door I took him for a beggar, and was about to send him out around to the kitchen. His hair, always long, had not been trimmed since his departure, nor had he been shaved for a few days. His jacket was torn and dusty, and his trousers ready for the dust bin. His skin was decorated with the remains of old bites from insects and red welts from fresh ones. There was no talk of pellucid waters, majestic trees, or primitive rocks. He spoke of flies, midges, snakes, and mostly of all, hunger. He had not enjoyed a good square meal in days. The money, running low towards the end, had not allowed of it.

He was sent to soak in a tub while Nora and I directed the preparation of a feast to welcome the prodigal brother. His first speech after joining us in a clean shirt was, “How do the herd go on, Chloe? They are having a bad time of it with blow flies over towards Thirlmere.”

I would hardly have been more shocked had he enquired about the kitchen stove, or the state of our linens. He had not asked about his herd since coming down with Poetry Fever two years ago.

“We have been hard hit. I had to order an extra dip.”

“How many did we lose?”

“Seventeen, but the extra dipping cost us a good deal.”

“It had to be done. Much trouble with foxes?”

“Ulrich says there is a pair that are keeping him on his toes.”

“We’ll have a fox hunt this week,” he said calmly. Less and less did it sound like my brother speaking. Not a month ago all creatures great and small had been exempt from his hand.

“Scout was killed, Edward,” I told him.

“Oh, lord, how did that happen? I hope you got a good replacement.”

While he was in a business-like mood he heard about the stone walls, and before he left the table Nora pointed out that the silver tea service was not in its customary place on the sideboard. We did not often use it, as it was heavy and cumbersome, but it was one of life’s little pleasures to look at it while we ate.

I hardly know whether Edward Repentant was more likable than Edward Poetic. “This is my fault, and I shall get it back for you, Chloe,” he told me. “I think it was foolish of you to have pawned it, for those stone walls are not so important as you seem to think. They were built long ago to save the trouble of redefining the boundaries and are not so very important in keeping the herd assembled. However, it is done, and I know you meant it for the best. It’s not your fault that you know so little about these matters.”

We took tea in the saloon. The conversation changed with the setting. “You have not asked after Emily,” I reminded him, with a nervous look towards Nora, who was already reaching into her blue rattan netting box.

“That was a madness on my part,” he said, in the accents of a sheep farmer. “A madness most indiscreet. I cannot marry a penniless girl.”

Nora glanced up, her eyes betraying some sorrow at losing that illustrious “Lady” for the family. I must own I was a little sorry myself. “Gamble has offered for her,” Nora told him.

“An excellent match. Good for them both. Indeed it was almost inevitable, was it not?” he asked blandly.

“She has not accepted him. I think she would listen if you ...” I began, then stopped. What madness was I indulging in, urging Edward into offering for her? I was becoming as foolishly romantic as my aunt, but really I
had
felt somehow that things would work out better for us all.

He directed a cool, penetrating gaze on me. “I came to my senses out on the fells, Chloe. I will never be a poet of the first rank. I have wasted two precious years of my life, time which should have been spent putting our affairs into order. I have sloughed my responsibilities off onto your willing shoulders for too long. Due to my own foolishness I am in no position to offer for Emily. Fortunately for her, she has found another to replace me. That must be my consolation. I am no longer a child, but a man ready to assume the yoke of duty, responsibility ...”

I realized then something that had not been clear to me before, though I should have seen it long ago. Edward was an actor. This was a new role he was slipping into—a noble doer of duty, a shunner of life’s frivolities. He was not only a man, but an old man finished with love. It was a pity he had not got the part earlier, before we sunk into such dreadful debt and hard times.

I thought his first move in the morning would be to go up to Ulrich and survey his herd. Instead, he saddled up a mount (not the tinker’s wagon, his more usual mode of travel when a poet) and went into Grasmere to have his hair cut off short. He returned looking like a soldier just out of uniform. I swear his shoulders sat at a different angle, his back was more erect, while his tread was certainly firmer. Even Nora noticed that.

“I have paid the mortgage, Chloe,” he told me. “I know you always worry about it.” This worthy deed had been made possible by my own arranging of money to cover our other recent expenses, which he did not mention, but he was only a novice worthy after all, and deserved encouragement. I encouraged him to his heart’s content.

“I also have some bad news, I fear,” he said. “Your silver tea service has been sold. It is gone from Oldham’s.”

“I knew that, Edward. Tom bought it.”

“Tom Carrick?”

“Yes, for me, but I could not accept it. And in any case, we could not have bought it if it were still in the shop. We have no spare money.”

“I must arrange some funds, some operating money.”

“How will you perform this miracle?” I asked, alive with curiosity. It sounded so very simple the way he said it.

“Sell off a bit of the herd. Do you know of anyone wanting sheep?”

“Mr. Gamble spoke of setting up a herd,” I told him.

“Gamble! I wish it were anyone else but he! Oh never mind, it is only business after all, and at least he will pay cash. I’ll go to see him.”

“You really ought to see Emily, too, to let her know for certain you will not be offering for her. She is awaiting your return before she gives her cousin his answer.”

“Yes, I must do it,” he agreed, chin up, eyes glowing nobly. Oh, he was revelling in his new role. He would enjoy the renunciation to the hilt. I was not at all sure how Emily would enjoy it.

I never did hear from Edward what she had to say, but I saw for myself the new intimacy developing between her and her cousin John Gamble. They went everywhere together—to church, to the village, driving, usually in her blue phaeton, walking and climbing over the fells. It could be but a matter of time, and not much time at that, till the announcement was made.

The second unforseen development that followed close on the heels of Edward’s return had to do with Gamble and Wingdale. They became quite the bosomest of bows. When Jack was not with Emily, he was with the Captain. If local gossip were to be believed, he took as many meals as Wingdale Hause as he took at home. More than once I saw Gamble in the yet undeveloped area to be known in the future as Wingdale. I almost began to wonder whether it would not be re-christened Carn Dale, for it seemed to me the point of all this friendship must be for Gamble to involve himself and his fortune in the business of developing the new village.

Ladies’ gossip on business affairs is not always to be credited, but as Edward had now become a man of business, he was privy to what was actually going on in such important places as banks and registry offices. “Did you know Gamble has got hold of the lakeside property just below Grasmere, there on the western side of the water?” he asked me one evening as we sat in the saloon. Edward was perusing a farming periodical, to which he now subscribed. He didn’t do things by halves.

“I wish I could have a chance to give him a piece of my mind!”

“I wish you will not do that, Chloe. I am involved in business negotiations with him, you see.”

“Selling him some sheep does not require the whole family to save his feelings. Did he give you a good price for them?”

“Yes, but that was not what I referred to.”

“What do you mean then?” I asked, full of curiosity.

“I don’t want you to worry your head about the business end of our affairs any longer. I have burdened you for too long already. This is man’s work.”

I felt sure it was no more than permission to graze on our heaf till Gamble got his own pasturage that was involved in this important men’s business, and let it pass. It would not be long before Edward was treating me like a mindless female whose affairs were to be discussed in front of her as though she were not even present as Ulrich and his like did. Life was dull enough at Ambledown without being cut off from business. If I were to be turned into a mere domestic creature, though, I would exert myself to bring some order and if possible elegance into our home, that had deteriorated so badly. My thoughts often turned longingly to those new draperies and carpets at the Hall. How long it had been since we had afforded a new anything!

The operating money Edward had got from the sale of the sheep could not be spent on my tea service, as Tom did not come to see us these days, and I refused to allow Edward to go after him. The silver was safe in Tom’s attic, whereas there were things wanting done in the barn and stables. I was not at all sorry to hear Edward planned to do them. It was pleasant to hear the banging of the hammer in those usually silent spots, to see decaying boards being replaced, and the roof mended. How I wished we might bring the carpenters to the house proper for some repairs on loose windows, sagging doors, and peeling paint, but I knew there was not enough money for these luxuries.

I little thought when I so often let fall my admiration of Gamble’s new carpets that Edward was hatching a surprise for me. When I returned from a meeting of the ladies charity sewing circle at Johnsons in the village, my eyes were greeted by a spanking new carpet in the saloon. It was not a cheap one either, though I would have selected some other colours than red and blue, which must bring to mind my night of horror at Wingdale Hause. When I mentally redid the room, I fancied it in gold and green, but Nora had gone with him to make the selection so I dared not utter a thing but loud praise and admiration. It was not so different in pattern from the old threadbare covering that had preceded it. In fact, I came in time to dislike it quite intensely, but I appreciated the thought, and it was better than the old.

I worried that Edward had overspent, but the closest questioning did not reveal either how many sheep he had sold, what price he had got for them, or how much all our newness cost in pounds and pence. I was no longer to be worried with a knowledge of such things; I was to worry in ignorance instead.

Edward did not speak of Emily. He was deep into his new role, strutting about his domain, smiling at the mended barn, and as the season progressed, bringing in the hay and the fruit from the orchard. He stood about on market day with the other farmers, discussing the price of mutton and the drought, good for nothing but hay, which is not all that vital a commodity in our district, where winter grazing is possible, as it is in some others. I thought he had fairly forgotten Emily, but on a Saturday in late August I went to the village with him, and we met her shopping with Hennie. They passed us with a chilly smile and a “Good day, folks,” as though we were little better than strangers. There was a look on Edward’s face that betokened more than a former interest.

“She was very pretty, was she not?” he said to me in a wan voice.

“She still is, Edward. She is not dead.”

“She is dead to
me.
” was the stoical response.

“There are plenty of pretty girls around,” I said to cheer him.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he agreed, without a single iota of interest.