Captivating the Cynical Earl

by Catherine Tinley

‘I have not been in these woods since Jack and I were boys.’ Tom’s tone was reflective as they traversed the last few yards towards the line of trees. ‘It used to be one of our favourite haunts when we came to Hazledene every summer. Thursley Hill and Crow Wood were places of adventure, of imagined dangers and elaborate games.’

  So the Earl’s given name is Jack. A strong, direct name.

  Cecily tried it silently in her mouth. Jack. It suited him.

  The three gentlemen were stopped near the trees, having delayed while they caught up. ‘We decided to wait for you before we crossed the line.’ The Earl’s tone suggested something of great significance.

  ‘The line, my lord?’ Cecily was intrigued. She peeked up at the Earl from under the poke of her bonnet, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes soften briefly in admiration before assuming their more usual expression. Her heart fluttered briefly in response.

  My word!

  Tom reached for his wife’s hand. ‘Here,’ he pronounced, laughter crinkling his eyes, ‘we leave the everyday world behind, and enter a realm of magic.’ His voice took on a tone of dire warning, comical in its exaggeration. ‘These woods contain witches, and dragons, and evil creatures that would seek to do us harm.’ Nell’s eyes widened theatrically as she joined in the joke.

  ‘But fear not!’ There was a humorous glint in the Earl’s eye as he joined in the play-acting. ‘For the scions of House Beresford can protect you from all harm.’ He was gazing directly at Cecily as he spoke and, despite knowing it was all a game, she could not help feeling a slight thrill at his words and expression.

  ‘The Hawkenden knights,’ added Tom, ‘have special powers that help us defeat any evil that comes against us or our loved ones.’ His eyes met his brother’s briefly, then they both glanced away.

  Cecily felt a tightening in her throat as their childish game gave her a fleeting impression of how close the brothers had been, long ago. Friends, playmates, allies.

  That is the first time today I have seen them look at one another directly.

  The current estrangement between them remained strong, and Cecily was finding herself increasingly bothered by it.

  The path ahead was narrow, admitting only two abreast. ‘Lady Cecily?’ The Earl offered his right arm, and Cecily took it, enjoying the sensation of her gloved hand sliding under his elbow and curling around his forearm. Tom and Nell fell in behind them, with the two gentlemen taking up the rear.

  Three steps in, Cecily began to understand why the Beresford boys had believed they were entering another world. The pine trees and fern-filled undergrowth was tightly packed, meaning that daylight was dimmer here, and the everyday sounds of breezes and birdsong were silenced. Ten steps in, and they might have been in a cave, so dense was the forest around them. The ferns and ivy gradually disappeared, until Cecily found herself ankle-deep in brown pine needles. She lifted her skirt a little as she walked, enjoying the crunch and give beneath her kid half-boots. Lifting her head, she looked all around, enjoying the eeriness and the clean, refreshing scent of the pine trees.

  Her eyes met his. ‘Do you feel it?’ he murmured.

  ‘I do.’ Her voice trembled a little. ‘It is wonderfully frightening!’

  His left hand moved across to cover hers. ‘I am impressed that you can sense both—the frightening otherworldliness and the thrilling adventure of it. Such fancies are perhaps best left in childhood, and yet...’ His voice tailed away. She could feel his warmth through her glove. It was making her hand tingle with pleasure.

  ‘Places like this are perhaps how superstitions are created,’ she replied softly. ‘I know that it only seems different because the light and sounds from outside cannot easily get through. Yet the more primitive part of me feels as though there may indeed be dragons and witches behind every tree! I love how the light slants through here and there, lighting up small places as though they have great significance’ She gestured with her free hand. ‘It is...perfect.’

  He grinned. ‘Exactly.’ Their eyes met again, and something flared between them. Something fervent, and wonderful, and dangerous. Something that took her breath and made her pulse race and left a hot warmth in the pit of her stomach.

  My goodness!

  Swallowing hard, she made haste to fill the silence. ‘Who brought you here? As boys, I mean?’ In her mind’s eye she could see two sturdy boys, wooden swords at the ready, venturing through the half-light. ‘Your father, perhaps?’

  His expression hardened. ‘Our father had no interest in games. Or in his sons, for that matter.’ His face looked closed, his eyes narrowed. He had gone, somehow, having disappeared behind his usual wall of cold haughtiness.

  She grimaced. ‘I apologise. I should not be prying.’

  He shrugged. ‘No need. Our father was what he was. I have long since accepted it.’

  Have you, though?

  She kept the thought to herself but had not missed his clenched jaw and the tightness in his speech as he had spoken of his father.

  A hundred questions were flying around her brain like starlings, yet to pursue the topic of his father would be too much. ‘So who did bring you here?’

  ‘Actually, it was our nurse, Tilly.’ Now there was a different tone in his voice. Some deep emotion, too complex for Cecily to name at that moment.

  ‘Well, good for her! She clearly understood the minds of small boys.’

  His gaze became unfocused as he considered this. ‘I suppose so. We—Tom and I adored her. She looked after us both, having been promoted from housemaid to help Mama when I was a baby. We spent more time with her than we did with either of our parents.’

  ‘So was your mama also...busy?’ Conscious that she was much, much too fascinated by him, she tried her best to maintain a reasonably neutral tone. But her attention was completely focused on understanding him. Had both parents been cold towards him and Tom? It would explain much, she believed. Had she not read somewhere ‘Give me the boy until he is seven and I shall show you the man’?

  ‘Somewhat,’ he replied after a moment. ‘She was affectionate and generous, but she left us with Tilly most of the time. She had a... I think my father was a difficult person to live with.’

  ‘I see.’ But she did not, not really.

  He was pondering again. ‘I had not understood this before,’ he said slowly, ‘but it now occurs to me that perhaps Mama was trying to protect us.’ He was frowning, and his left hand had dropped back to his side.

  ‘Yet a small boy, not seeing that, might feel unwanted,’ she offered softly.

  He looked momentarily stricken, before a mask of polite unconcern came over his features. ‘The path widens out just around this bend.’ He indicated the way in front, where, sure enough, a moment later, the forest opened into a clearing. Crows cawed, the breeze ruffled Cecily’s curls, and the moment for sharing secrets evaporated like mist on a mountain.

  ‘What an adventure!’ Nell’s eyes were shining as she and Tom caught up with them. ‘I was just saying to Tom how lucky he was to have had such a wonderful place so close to the house!’

  Cecily managed a smile. What had happened in the dimly lit woods had been unlike anything she had ever experienced. Not just the heated look that had passed between them, but the exchange that had followed. Never had she had such an intimate conversation with anyone, least of all a gentleman. Her mind was reeling with images of forlorn, sad boys and angry, arrogant men. Her body, meanwhile, was still reeling with his effect on her. Making a conscious effort, she tried to breathe normally and focus on what was going on around her.

  Nell lowered her voice as Mr Harting and Mr Carmichael emerged blinking into the clearing, and the Earl and his brother both turned to speak to them—partly, Cecily guessed, to avoid having to speak to each other. ‘I am so sorry you were left with the Earl for so long, Cecily. I shall ensure that you have better company on the retur
n journey.’

  ‘I...’ Cecily was unsure what to say. ‘There is no need. He was agreeable company.’

  ‘Really? He did not take the opportunity to insult you again?’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘I suppose he can hardly do so in mixed company.’ Nell sniffed. ‘I do wish my darling Tom and his judgemental brother would be friends again.’

  ‘I remember a time when Tom was not as agreeable as he is now,’ Cecily pointed out dryly, stung into defending the Earl. ‘At Christmastime, you and he had a terrible falling out, as I recall.’

  Nell had the grace to blush a little. ‘True, but Tom is essentially good, and generous, and honourable.’

  Cecily shrugged. ‘Appearances may deceive us. Perhaps his brother has also been misunderstood.’

  Nell snorted. ‘Why, you yourself have been on the receiving end of his arrogant disdain. He has barely spoken to me, and he and Tom are circling each other like bucks before a fight!’

  ‘True.’ Cecily frowned, as a sudden insight came to her. ‘I believe he is behaving in a remarkably similar way to Tom, last Christmas. Before you and he came to an understanding.’

  Nell opened her mouth as if to argue, then closed it again.

  Cecily pressed on. ‘He spoke to me earlier, about our disagreement at Lady Jersey’s.’ She frowned. ‘Actually, he did not speak of it directly, for there were servants present. But he is sorry for his part in it, I am certain.’

  Nell raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘Did he say so? Did he apologise to you?’

  ‘Not exactly, but—‘

  ‘Well, when he does so, I shall be prepared to consider forgiving him. But while he treats you, and Tom, and me with disdain, he cannot expect amity from me!’

  This was entirely reasonable, and yet Cecily’s thoughts about the Earl were confused. In the arrogant man she now saw the boy he had been, and it was changing her view of him. Today was proving to offer unexpected insights. Her head was still muddled, as all her notions of the Earl were contradictory. Yet she now knew she was willing to see the goodness in him.

  She glanced across at him. He was engaging in some light-hearted raillery with his friends, his expression relaxed and open. Gone—for now, at least—was the cold, empty Earl. Gone, too, the hurt and confused boy who had briefly surfaced in the eyes of the man. She ought to have known, she supposed, that people were always more—and less—than what they seemed, and that one could never safely judge another.

  Tom approached the ladies then, seemingly unable to stay away from Nell for very long. Seeing how her friend’s face lit up when her husband was near created confusing, conflicting feelings in Cecily. While she was open to marrying one day, she could not be confident that she would enjoy the felicity of a love match. Love matches were rare, and there was no reason why she should be lucky enough to achieve one. Like many other ladies, she would likely marry a sensible suitor and hope for the best.

  On the way back, Mr Harting accompanied the Earl, with Cecily and Mr Carmichael directly behind them, and Tom and Nell taking up the rear. Cecily suspected the newly-wedded couple to be kissing in the woods behind her, and was conscious of a pang of envy. She herself had not had a kiss for a long time—since last summer, in fact, when a handsome young man had been making up to her during their visit to his family home. She had permitted him one kiss and had forgotten the lad soon afterwards. What must it be like to kiss the same man a hundred times? A thousand? Her eyes flew to the Earl, directly in front of her. His dark hair was curling over his collar, and she imagined her own hands raking through it, disordering it and enjoying the imagined sensation of feeling its softness through her fingers. Her heart skipped a little, and—

  ‘How do you, Lady Cecily?’ Mr Carmichael was looking at her solicitously.

  To cover her confusion, she gave a bright smile. ‘I am not at all frightened, Mr Carmichael, I assure you!’ On hearing this information, he looked rather disappointed.

  ‘Well,’ he declared, patting her hand where it rested in the crook of his arm, ‘never fear! Should there be dragons, I shall protect you!’

  Stifling a genuine smile at the notion, she dipped her head so her bonnet would hide her expression. In the mystical half-light, he could not see her properly anyway. Straining to hear, she caught snatches of the conversation between Mr Harting and the Earl. It involved labourers, and cottages, then later a field. Not particularly interesting on the surface, yet Cecily was intrigued by whatever business arrangements were being tentatively addressed by the two men during the walk. Partly because she was always interested in such matters, and partly because the Earl was involved.

  Emerging into full daylight was as sudden a surprise here as it had been in the clearing. ‘Oh, how bright it is!’ she declared.

  ‘The contrast is even more powerful on a sunny summer’s day,’ offered the Earl. She glanced at him. Was that an air of satisfaction? Perhaps the conversation with Mr Harting had gone well. Or maybe he was simply pleased that his guests had appreciated Crow Wood.

  Tom and Nell emerged from the twilight forest, he nuzzling her cheek and whispering something that was making her blush. Cecily, glancing quickly at the Earl, was unsurprised to catch him lifting his eyes briefly to the heavens. She was helpless to completely stifle the low chuckle that bubbled up within her, but she turned it into a cough and hoped no-one would notice.

  After a moment’s general conversation they all walked onwards towards the stile. This time it was the Earl who handed Cecily over it, and she felt what was now becoming a familiar thrill when she was near him.

  I declare I must be developing a tendre for him! How inconvenient! Inconvenient, and rather frightening in its intensity.

  Once or twice before she had been aware of similar flutterings, when a particular young man had flirted with her. The feelings had been temporary, passing within days once her customary cynicism had reasserted itself. The same would undoubtedly occur in this case.

  As they meandered companionably up the village street, she decided to simply accept the inevitability of it. She applied some sensible thinking to the situation. The Earl was handsome, well-built, and spoke to her as if she were a rational being. He also, she suspected, admired her looks. She was to be here for a few weeks only. Like her mama, why should she not enjoy a gentle flirtation to help pass the time? Unlike Mama, however, she would naturally not be inviting him to her bed.

  Mama had recently begun to pass on such wisdom as she thought appropriate to Nell’s stepmother, Mrs Godwin. Some of it had already come Cecily’s way. ‘One can be too subtle, my dear,’ she had declared recently. “You must always let a man know when you are interested in him, for they are often too stupid to notice. Engage playfully. Compliment him. Listen carefully when he speaks, even when it is tedious.”

  A quiver of repugnance rattled through Cecily. She could not do such things. Not in a hundred lifetimes. No, she would proceed with a light flirtation to while away her visit, but she could only be herself as she did so.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Just as they came close to the Vicarage, the front door opened, revealing a smiling, balding vicar and a lady who must be his wife. They stood, quietly waiting, then bowed and curtsied as the party neared the gate. Cecily waited, knowing it was up to the Earl to acknowledge them—or not, if he so chose.

  I do hope he is civil to them.

  She need not have been concerned. He stopped and tipped his hat, and the pair hurried to the gate. They exchanged introductions, the vicar naming himself and his lady as Mr and Mrs Martin. The vicar looked a kindly sort, if distracted, for he flustered himself with half-sentences and delight. His wife, a middle-aged lady with an intelligent gaze, said little, and held herself back from them all.

  They were invited inside for tea, an offer that the Earl accepted urbanely. The sitting room they were ushered into was comfortable, cosy and spotle
ssly clean. While awaiting refreshments, the vicar, to his wife’s noticeable chagrin, then announced that they had seen the party pass on the way out and had sent to the baker’s for some sweetmeats. These were duly produced, along with some welcome, warming tea, and pronounced by all to be of the highest quality.

  They spoke generally of the area, of Crow Wood, Thursley Hill and Hazledene, and the vicar commented how welcome it was to have the family at home once again. ‘For it is a shame that such a delightful house must be half-empty, the furniture hidden under covers and the shutters closed, for three-quarters of the year.’ Tom and the Earl exchanged a quick look, Cecily noticed, then immediately looked away from each other. It reminded her of Mr Carmichael’s comment, and the shadow she had seen crossing the Earl’s face.

  Why do they not stay here more often?

  Hazledene was beautiful, and comfortable, and within easy reach of London. Most families, if they owned something like this, would make it their main residence for comfort, keeping their larger properties for entertaining.

  ‘It is hard on the servants too, of course,’ the vicar continued, sipping his tea from a delicate china cup. He laughed lightly. ‘Not that you will be interested in the needs of the servants, my lord.’

  Mr Carmichael responded immediately with a comment about how his servants loved him being away, for they had much less work to do when he was gone. This being such an obvious point, no-one had anything further to say for a moment.

  The reverend, in response to Nell’s polite question, gave details of the times of the Sunday service, beaming, and said he looked forward to seeing them all there on Sunday. The Earl agreed, and set down his cup, signalling that the visit was at an end. Five minutes later they were once again on the path back to Hazledene.

  ‘A civil fellow,’ commented Mr Carmichael, ‘though perhaps something of a radical.’

  ‘How so, Mr Carmichael?’ enquired Cecily, although she suspected she knew.

  He shrugged. ‘He and his wife are quick to defend the servants, even though servants should be grateful for their positions.’