A Relative Matter

by Karen Cogan

  Anne smiled up at Westerfield. “I should be pleased if you would stay on until lunch and we might have a picnic. Of course, I shall understand if you have other plans.”

  He smiled back at her. “I have no other plans. And if I did, I should promptly break them in order to spend the time with you.”

  “I shall tell Cook to make up a picnic for us. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have our difference behind us. I hope that we shall never quarrel again.”

  Westerfield grinned as he put his arm around her. “That would take all the spice out of life. What good are things without a good quarrel now and then?”

  “Pleasant, I should say.”

  He squeezed her gently and kissed the top of her nose. “I should not like to quarrel with you often, you understand.”

  They walked together to the house, where Westerfield waited in the library while Anne scurried to request that Cook make up a picnic. When she returned, she found that Mr. Tyler and Jeremy had joined Lord Westerfield. Stamping down the disappointment of losing his undivided attention, she reminded herself that they would soon go on their outing together.

  She bided her time while Lord Westerfield and Mr. Tyler discussed the merits of various firearms. She let her thoughts wander to Mariah and her marriage. She wondered if Mariah was happy. She had certainly seemed so when Anne had come upon her and Mr. Fletcher.

  After awhile, Mr. Tyler brought the conversation round to the subject of lunch. “I am sure I speak for all of us when I request that you join us,” he told Westerfield.

  Westerfield nodded obligingly. “I thank you for the invitation. I would gladly join your table were it not for the fact that a charming young woman has invited me on a picnic.”

  Mr. Tyler pulled his chin and pretended to be flummoxed. “Do I know her?”

  “Indeed you do, sir, for she is sitting prettily in our midst.”

  Anne’s cheeks flushed pink as Mr. Tyler beamed at her and said, “I can think of no better company on a picnic than our Anne.”

  “You are both too kind. I do not pretend to be the best of company. I fear, at times, I may be quite dull.”

  At that, Westerfield let out a chuckle that caused her to blush even more furiously. He shook his head and said, “You, Miss Tyler, are never dull. You never cease to surprise me with your candid views and unassuming ways. I assure you that I treasure them and would never wish for you to change a bit.”

  Jeremy spoke up. He was bored by the turn of the conversation. Yet, he had heard one thing that interested him. “Are you going on a picnic? May I please come along?”

  Anne felt a surge of distress. As much as she loved Jeremy, she longed for this picnic to be solely for the purpose of getting to know Lord Westerfield better. It would be impossible to speak as they liked with the boy along.

  Mr. Tyler spoke up quickly. “Why, Jeremy, I had thought you would have lunch with me. If you go off on a picnic, I shall be left alone.”

  Jeremy was not discouraged. “We could all go.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence while Jeremy awaited Anne’s answer. In order to be polite, she knew that she had no choice except to invite the entire party. Yet before she braced herself to reply, Mr. Tyler rescued her by saying. “I wanted to see you ride your pony directly after lunch.”

  He winked at Jeremy. “If we go on a picnic, we shall be stuck all afternoon, sitting around and talking with Lord Westerfield and your sister.”

  He feigned a whisper and said, “Does that not sound dreadfully dull?”

  Jeremy needed no more to be convinced. “Will you really watch me ride my pony?”

  Mr. Tyler nodded solemnly. “I should like nothing better. You can show me all of his paces.”

  Anne felt her conscience prick. “You need not change your plans on account of us. I know you were planning to ride over to the tenant property today.”

  Mr. Tyler shook his head. “I can do that any day.”

  He slapped his thigh. “Today is the day I see Jeremy ride his pony.”

  Anne smiled her thanks just as Polly came to announce lunch for Jeremy and Mr. Tyler.

  “You take care on that pony. No showing off,” Anne told Jeremy.

  “I shan’t.”

  “I shall see that he is careful,” Mr. Tyler promised.

  Westerfield took her arm and guided her gently toward the basket that Polly held for them. She realized it was his subtle way of telling her that she was being overprotective again. Instead of taking offense, she allowed him to steer her away.

  He took the basket and walked beside her out the open French doors and into the gentle sunlight that was tempered by flocks of lazy clouds that drifted like fleece across the sky.

  “I hope it shall not rain,” she said.

  “Oh, it will not rain.”

  She gave him a quizzical glance. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I am looking forward to our picnic too much to abide any rain.”

  “And the weather will do as you require?”

  He grinned. “The weather will do just as it pleases. I only hope that it pleases me.”

  She laughed. “Then I need not accuse you of arrogance, for indeed I have seen no hint of that. It is one of the things I like the most about you.”

  “That is a compliment coming from such a fair-minded person as you.”

  Anne smiled up at him. “If we go on like this, we shall turn each other’s heads and both become insufferable.”

  “Then, we shall drive everyone else away and be left with only our own company. I could deal quite happily with that.”

  “You might be sorry for that, in time.”

  “Then we should improve ourselves with useful criticism. What would you have me change about myself besides meddling in business that is not my own.”

  Anne thought over his question as they strolled across the lawn to the park on the west side of the house. He set the picnic basket under a shady oak that was home to a squirrel who peered down at them with sharp button eyes. She made a mental note to save over a strawberry or two for his dinner.

  “Offhand, I cannot think of any traits that I would condemn. If you give me a bit more time, perhaps I might come up with something.”

  “How long do you need?”

  She smiled mischievously as she shook out their blanket. “Thirty or forty years should do it.”

  “As a suitor? I do not think I could bear it.”

  “On that I can decide much more quickly.”

  “Perhaps I might help you make up your mind.”

  He reached out and stroked her cheek. It felt petal soft under his fingers. He traced the outline of her lips, and as they parted, he noted the even whiteness of her teeth. Dare he kiss her? He looked into her eyes and saw the dreaminess of yearning that dwelt in his own heart. He leaned down and claimed her lips in a soft gentle kiss.

  As he drew away, he saw her lick her lips as though savoring the feel of their kiss. Her eyes were soft like a doe’s and slightly wary. And though he wanted desperately to steal one more kiss, he decided he had better leave that for another time.

  He doffed his hat and bowed. “Our lunch awaits, madam. Shall we dine?”

  His light-hearted manner broke the spell he had woven between them.

  Anne settled herself upon the blanket and began to unpack yeasty white rolls and succulent baked pheasant, cut into thin slices. She pulled out sweet smelling ripe berries and sharp scented cheese. Wrapped carefully in cloth, were several sugared cakes, a glass jar of lemonade and two cups.

  They sampled the tasty food until, appetites sated, they sat back in contentment against the trunk of the tree. Anne could not remember a time when she had felt so content in the company of a gentleman.

  She glanced over to see Westerfield pick a leaf of sweet mint and begin to chew so thoughtfully that she said, “I would give a great deal to know your thoughts at this moment.”

  His scandalously dark eyes fixed her with a gaze so int
ent that she shivered with anticipation. He had a most discomposing effect upon her. And yet, he charmed her so completely that she longed to see him more often each time they were together.

  He discarded the leaf and replied, “My thoughts are no secret. I was thinking what a perfect afternoon it is with perfect company and a wonderful meal. I could hardly be any more content.”

  “I feel the same.”

  She looked down bashfully and he found her so enchanting that he captured her small hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.

  She caught her lip between her teeth to keep herself from being swept away by the senses he evoked. His lips were warm and moist. They left each finger tingling when he moved to the next, paying exquisite attention to each dainty tip.

  At last he brought her hands to rest against his cheeks. The short stubble of his beard bristled beneath her fingers, reminding her of the masculine scent of his cologne when they had kissed. A part of her longed for him to kiss her again and she knew that, should he do so, she would not resist. Yet later, when she regained her senses, she would chastise herself for behaving in so undisciplined a manner.

  He drew her hands together and kissed her palms. Then, releasing her hands he said, “Perhaps we should take a turn about the park. I could use the exercise after indulging in such gluttonous eating. My horse shall refuse to carry me home and I will not blame him one whit.”

  Anne did not know whether she was more relieved or disappointed. He confused her emotions and troubled her mind. Yet she knew she was as powerless as a grain of sand against the sea in the attraction she felt for Lord Westerfield. She would simply have to ride the tide and see where it took her.

  They strolled the small park, stopping to smell wild roses and the jasmine that grew near the wild hedge of hawthorn that separated the park from the thicker undergrowth of a small forest of birch.

  They were headed back, following the hedge toward the picnic tree, when a gentle rustling of the bushes caused Anne to draw back. She stifled a screech when a nose poked out from beneath the brush.

  As Westerfield knelt down to observe the creature, it began a frantic struggle that shook the bushes. He drew on his gloves and began to separate the hedge. Two long velvety ears popped out along with two brown eyes wild with fright.

  “There now. Rest easy. I am only trying to free you,” he said soothingly.

  Anne knelt beside him, relieved to see that it was only a dear little rabbit trapped among the thorns. The creature struggled in fits and spurts, and then relaxed completely, feigning demise.

  At last, Westerfield untangled the sharp thorns from the fluff of fur and spread the branches so that the rabbit might escape. It sat quite still for a moment, as though frozen with fright, and then, with a frantic burst of speed, it dashed from its prison and disappeared into a burrow on the far side of the park.

  Anne felt touched by Westerfield’s kindness in rescuing such a small helpless creature. His sympathy for the poor rabbit told her much more than mere words could ever have said about his character.

  “That was a thoughtful thing to do.”

  “I am only happy that we heard the unhappy creature. It would have starved or been found by a dog soon enough.”

  “And yet they are hunted by those very dogs, are they not?”

  “Indeed. But I believe they should be given a sporting chance to run. I know I should not like to meet my end trapped in my own jacket.”

  “Nor should I,” Anne agreed.

  Westerfield picked up the picnic basket, light now after being emptied. They walked back to the house, absorbed in their own thoughts. A maid took the basket when they reached the door to the kitchen.

  “Will you come along tomorrow for the hunt?” Westerfield asked.

  Anne frowned a bit. “I have never been on a hunt. Watching the killing of birds does not appeal to me. However, I do wish to keep an eye on Jeremy. So, yes, I shall come.”

  Westerfield grinned. “Then I will look forward to it all the more.”

  “When should we arrive?”

  “Let us say ten o’clock. Then, you can all stay on to lunch. That will please Father.”

  Anne nodded. “He is a most gracious gentleman.”

  “He has taken quite a liking to you. He will never forgive me if I do not manage to bring you to Westerfield Manor.”

  Anne felt her heart begin to race. Was he bordering on a proposal? Was she ready? What about Jeremy?

  Leaving the comment to rest, Westerfield changed the subject. “The picnic was a treat. Perhaps you would allow me to escort you to the ball being given in honor of the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher.”

  Anne felt an immediate sting from the possibility of being cut. “Have you an invitation?”

  “Not yet. But I have heard rumors of it.”

  “I do not know if I shall be invited. Mariah and I have had a bit of a rift.”

  Westerfield took her hand. “If you are not welcome, then I shall not go either. We shall go into the village and have our own supper. I think I should prefer it, in fact.”

  Anne smiled at his earnest declaration. “I shall let you know if I receive an invitation. If not, I shall take you up on having supper.”

  He took her hand and bestowed a kiss. “I should be going now. You will not forget your promise to come tomorrow?”

  “I will not forget.”

  He released her hand and tipped his hat. “Then I shall see you on the morrow.”

  He crunched along the back garden path to the front of the house where his mount waited. Anne stood in the garden. Her emotions were in a whirl. He had come close to saying that he wished to marry her and take her to Westerfield Manor. What would she have said? Her heart told her she would have agreed, leaving her mind to work out the details.

  She found herself smiling and humming as she went about her afternoon. She did not even get upset when Jeremy reluctantly admitted to falling off the pony while attempting a jump.

  “Perhaps that will teach you to be more careful,” Anne said without looking up from embroidering roses onto a pillow.

  Jeremy stared at her a moment in surprise before he shrugged and walked away.

  The next morning dawned with gray and overcast skies that threatened to put a chill into the air. Anne opened her window and studied the clouds that hung like battleships in a misty sea. Moisture on the outside of her windowsill told her that it had drizzled overnight. If they were not rained out for the hunt, she must remember to bring along a warm woolen shawl.

  As she breakfasted in her room, an impatient rapping at her door told her Jeremy was eager to be off. She bid him come in and noticed that he had neither combed his hair nor properly buttoned his shirt. He had no patience when it came to a choice between personal grooming and going on an outing.

  “Are you not ready, Anne? It must be nearly time to go.”

  “Not for over an hour, dear. Have you had your breakfast?”

  “Yes. Very early. Betsy brought it in.”

  “Well you will have to amuse yourself while I finish my breakfast and dress. Have you seen Mr. Tyler?”

  “No. But I know he is having breakfast because I saw Betsy take in his tray.”

  “I shall have to conference with him regarding the weather. I hope it does not preclude our outing.”

  Jeremy scowled. “It had better not. I shall go out and look at the clouds.”

  Anne smiled. “Jeremy, you are no more in control of the weather than is Lord Westerfield.”

  “I know. But I do hope it does not storm.”

  “Comb your hair and button your shirt correctly. Then you may go out if you wear a jacket.”

  “All right. But we shall go. I know we shall.”

  After Anne finished her breakfast, Betsy helped her dress in a sensible cotton gown. She donned black button boots instead of slippers. If she were going to hike the woods, she intended to dress for the occasion.

  She left her room just as Mr. Tyler was em
erging from his chamber. It seemed he had little concern regarding the weather. “It is sure to clear up later in the morning. It always does on days such as this.”

  So taking his word, the party set out in the carriage for Westerfield Manor. To prove Mr. Tyler correct, the weather began to clear before they reached the fork in the road. As they crossed onto the lane leading to the manor, Mariah’s carriage approached from the other direction. Anne had her driver slow so that she might greet Mariah. Her effort was in vain, as Mariah gave her a quick glance, turned her head away and clattered past without any greeting.

  Anne sighed. Perhaps she should assume the friendship was ended and get on with her life. After all, Mariah had pointed out that she was a married woman while Anne was still single. The thought of marriage made a tingle run through her spine that made her forget all about Mariah. She would see the lord today. Would he make any further hints toward a declaration in form? The possibility kept her in a constant state of the jitters. Yet it was a pleasant anticipation that made her look forward to his visit.

  They arrived at the manor to find Lord Westerfield waiting outside. He grinned broadly as they pulled to a stop. He helped Anne from the carriage and then lifted Jeremy down. When Mr. Tyler joined them, Lord Westerfield greeted his guests with a bow.

  “Welcome to Westerfield Manor. I trust that you had a pleasant journey.”

  “Yes. Fortunately it is not far. I do not believe young Jeremy could have stood a longer trip,” said Mr. Tyler.

  Anne had a more serious concern. “We passed Mariah Fletcher on the way into the estate.”

  Lord Westerfield shifted about, looking discomfited. “Yes, she delivered the invitation to the ball. Perhaps she is stopping at your house next.”

  “Possibly,” Anne agreed, though she did not believe it was true.

  Their attention shifted as one of the stable hands brought the dogs round. They pulled at their chains in eagerness to begin the hunt. Yet a stern command from Lord Westerfield had them sitting obediently at his feet.

  He passed a gun to Mr. Tyler and grinned down at Jeremy. “Now we shall show you how this is done.”

  “May I see my puppy?”

  “You will have plenty of time to visit your puppy after lunch. Now, it is time to hunt.”

  Anne wrapped her shawl about her and trod with the men toward the forest that lay on the east side of the estate. It consisted of a thick copse of trees that thinned at the edges into the meadow they now crossed.

  She put her hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and said, “You are not to wander away. I shall not have you getting lost or mistaken for game and shot.”

  Westerfield glanced down at the boy. “You will stay right with us and not worry your sister, will you not?”

  Jeremy nodded. “I want to watch what you do.”

  They entered the woods and sent the dogs rummaging into the bushes to flush out the birds. Several quail rose at once from one of the bushes. The dogs froze as the men aimed into the sky and one of the birds fell. Jeremy jumped with excitement as the dogs set off to retrieve it.

  “My dog can learn to do that. I know he can.”

  “Of course,” said Westerfield. “But he will need training.”

  They repeated the process several times, yet were not always successful. Anne doubted that Mr. Tyler had hit a bird at all. Yet, his enthusiasm made up for his lack of skill. He aimed shot after shot, prompted along by Westerfield’s cheerful encouragement.

  The grooms kept up their end of the job by pouring flask after flask of black powder into the barrels and carefully tamping it down. And though Anne had never cared for guns, she admired the efficient competency of the three groomsmen. It seemed they were always ready to hand over a fresh gun as soon as it was required.

  By the time they had a half-dozen birds, it had begun to drizzle. The men were engrossed in their pursuit and did not seem to notice. Anne pulled her shawl more closely about her to help stop her shivers.

  She was relieved when Westerfield tied a dozen birds on a string to be carried back by the groomsmen. Her hair curled in damp ringlets beneath her bonnet. Her shawl felt clammy beneath her hands. Soon she would be soaked through.

  Everyone was admiring the bounty when a shot broke the hush of the woods, sending sparrows and larks fleeing from their treetop roosts.

  They turned as one to see who had fired the shot. The woods seemed deserted except for their small party. Lord Westerfield made a quick assessment of their surroundings, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

  When he spotted no one, he asked, “Did anyone see who fired that shot?”

  They all shook their heads.

  The shot had given Anne quite a start. She put her arms around Jeremy and glanced anxiously about. When he wriggled to get free, she held him more tightly and asked, “Was someone firing at us?”

  Finishing his perusal of the forest around them, Westerfield said, “I believe it must have been a stray shot from a poacher. I shall send my men to investigate. My tenants have my permission to hunt here, but they are to let me know first.”

  Anne clutched Jeremy’s shoulder, ready to march him from the woods. “If someone is hunting, then we should not be here.”

  Mr. Tyler gave a nervous glance about. “You are right, dear. It is not safe.”

  Westerfield nodded. “Shall we go back to the house? The weather has turned unkind and you all must be cold.”

  Anne could feel her knees trembling as they walked toward to the edge of the woods. All the while, trees bent over them like haughty sentries who would prevent their escape. The musty scent of damp earth and tall trees lost its allure.

  When they reached the edge of the woods, Anne breathed a little easier. Here, they would not be mistaken for prey. She was thankful that no one had been injured, as she had endured enough loss of those she loved. If she had her way, none of her men would go hunting. Not if, there was the possibility of having them catch a stray bullet.

  Lord Westerfield looked down into her face and said, “I am sorry you were frightened. I cannot think who might have been trespassing. My tenants are very good about asking permission to hunt.”

  Mr. Tyler patted her shoulder. “We are all unharmed and can be grateful for that. I say we go on about the day and forget all about it.”

  Lord Westerfield shook his head. “I shall not forget it until I have sent out my men. If they find someone, I shall give him a tongue-lashing for neglecting to obtain my permission.”

  Anne watched Jeremy run ahead. “I am vastly relieved that no one was injured. It may be awhile before Jeremy and I go hunting again.”

  “I entirely understand,” said the lord.

  They left off the quail and freshened themselves for lunch. The elder lord was awaiting them at a long dining table that gleamed like glass and smelled of polish. He greeted them all genially and asked about the hunt. When told of the mishap, he became agitated.

  “We must order men out to the woods. We cannot allow this sort of thing to happen.”

  “Calm yourself, Father. I have already sent the men. If there is anyone skulking around, they will find them.”

  Thus, assured, the elder lord took pleasure in presiding over his table. When they were finished with the meal, a servant was sent to fetch the pup and Jeremy was excused to the kitchen to play with his dog while the adults withdrew to the parlor to visit.

  When at last it grew late in the afternoon, Mr. Tyler said, “As much as I have enjoyed your hospitality, I fear we must be off. I have a great deal of paperwork to make sense of regarding the estate.”

  The elder lord sent a servant to fetch Jeremy and they bid their host good-bye. Young Lord Westerfield saw them to the carriage.

  “I shall look forward to another outing,” he said.

  Though he addressed both of them, his eyes were on Anne.

  “It was a most pleasant visit,” she said.

  Jeremy joined them as they mounted the carriage.

  As they
drove away, Lord Westerfield waved until they were out of sight.

  They arrived home just in time to rest awhile before supper. Anne was on her way up the stairs when a thought struck her.

  “Betsy, did I receive any mail today?”

  “Yes, miss. Mrs. Fletcher brought something by for you.”

  Anne descended to the foot of the stairs where Mr. Tyler stood, purveying the letters on the silver salver. He handed her the note from Mariah. And, to her surprise, she found that she had indeed been invited to the ball. She smiled to herself thinking that it would be a pleasure to attend with Lord Westerfield, even if Mariah was mad at her.

  She glanced up to see Mr. Tyler scanning a note delivered to him. His face had drained of color. As he sagged against the banister, Anne forgot all about the ball and reached out to steady him, knowing he must have had dreadful news.