A Seven Year Hitch

by Mary Beeken

  “I beg to differ, Miss Wilmshurst, it will be no trouble at all to continue your lesson where we left off.” He had every intention of being in close physical proximity to her again, and if he had his way, taking it to a whole new level.

  “I’m sure someone else can proceed now, My Lord,” she said firmly but her hopes of thwarting him were dashed when Michael said, “I’m not risking my toes again.”

  “Don’t look at me,” said Charlie.

  “Seems to me, Trevellyn has the right credentials when it comes to teaching you to dance, Erica. You’d best stick with him if you want to become good at it,” Stephen added.

  “But I really don’t want to be good at it and it would not be fair to monopolize His Lordship on the dance floor.” Erica was getting desperate.

  “Nonsense, the fellow says he doesn’t mind, so why should you?” Gerald hammered home the final nail in the proverbial coffin and then trailed inside behind the others.

  Erica watched them go in disbelief before flinging herself round to face Trevellyn who had propped one hip against the wall and with arms folded, was watching her with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

  “You…You…”

  “Handsome rogue?” he supplied.

  “Conceited, seducing fiend!”

  “Unfair, sweetheart, I haven’t seduced you!”

  “And nor will you!” she retorted.

  “You are incredibly arrogant are you not?”

  “Me arrogant, have you looked at yourself lately?” she was outraged at the suggestion.

  “But you assume I want to ravish you even though you are aware that I am considering offering for your cousin.”

  “After that dance what else am I supposed to assume?”

  “That it’s war. I told you I would have revenge for this afternoon!”

  “Damn you!”

  “Language, sweetheart. Language,” Trevellyn was enjoying himself hugely. “I might think you’re upset that I find myself able to resist your luscious charms.”

  “You are repulsive. Believe me, I am mighty relieved you can resist ‘my luscious charms’, because they will never be offered to you!”

  “Would you care to bet on that? I’d offer you very good odds.”

  “You would lose!” Erica turned towards the door but was forestalled when Trevellyn said, “So you concede defeat?”

  “One battle does not win the war, Trevellyn!”

  Chapter Three

  Erica awoke early the next morning to a glorious summer day, which made it ideal for the annual Water Sports Gala. She dressed hurriedly in a faded old gown and rushed downstairs to begin preparations for what promised to be a hectic but fun-packed day beside the lake.

  “Slow down, Miss Erica,” Boodle admonished as she grabbed a slice of toast off the kitchen table and took a gulp of scalding coffee that made her eyes water. “Turner has already organised the grooms into the ferrying of equipment and I have sent as many house servants as can be spared to help out. All is in hand.”

  “Boodle, you’re a marvel and I don’t know how we’d go on without you.” Erica gave him a peck on the cheek just as Gerald sauntered through the door.

  “I see I am just in time to rescue you Boodle,” he said, “What is it she wants this time?”

  “I am merely showing my appreciation for all he does for us. He has already started getting things ready for the gala.”

  “Boodle, would you like me to kiss you too as I am also appreciative?”

  “Thank-you kind sir, but one kiss a day is my limit!” Boodle managed to say without even a ghost of a smile although he winked at Erica.

  “Right then, I shall have to settle for a hug,” he sighed

  “Only one hug a week, My Lord, and that’s on Sunday”. Boodle’s expression remained deadpan.

  “On that note I shall take myself off. Are you coming, Erica?” but just before he followed Erica out the door he ran back and kissed the butler’s cheek and was swatted for his pains.

  “Get away with you, Master Gerald.” Boodle’s face cracked into a beaming grin.

  When they reached the lake, the grooms and gardeners were already busy erecting two relatively large tents, which would be used as changing rooms, and a canvas shelter under which would be set chairs, tables and recliner seats. Other servants were busy ferrying down blankets and towels and other essentials.

  Without any more ado, Gerald stripped off his coat and began to assist with putting up the tents whilst Erica supervised proceedings. Within half an hour other houseguests began to stroll down to assist, including Trevellyn. He spotted his hostess almost immediately and made his way towards her but without getting so close as to alert her to his presence. She was humming as she moved from boat to boat, oblivious both to him and to how tantalizing she looked with her hair in disarray and her old, slightly too small, gown showing off the shapely contours of her body. At each small rowing boat she bent over, causing the worn material to stretch across her well-formed bottom; much to the appreciation of her unbeknownst audience who grinned appreciatively.

  Erica had just finished checking the last of the boats having ascertained that it carried two oars, when a sixth sense alerted her to a feeling that she was the recipient of someone’s scrutiny. She spun around and quickly spotted him leaning against a tree trunk; arms crossed and casually attired in an open necked, white shirt.

  “Stop smirking!” she ordered, cross that he was so mind numbingly handsome and crosser still that she noticed.

  “Good morning to you too, sweetheart. Did you have pleasant dreams?” he asked deliberately trying to bait her. She began to untangle a length of rope as she replied.

  “Why yes I did, thank you. You weren’t in them and I will have a pleasant day too, if you stay out of my way!”

  “I had pleasant dreams too, thank you for asking, and you were definitely in mine.” He ignored her not very subtle hint.

  “And what happened in your dream?” she asked but continued before he could answer. “No doubt you were crowing over my dead body or some such thing.”

  “Oh definitely some such thing!” he laughed. He had without doubt, been over her body but it had not been dead but writhing in pleasure. She however, did not need to know that.

  “Is there anything I can help you with, Miss Wilmshurst?”

  Erica looked up sharply from her task at the polite formalness of his tone and realised that Stephen and Fiona had joined them. “We’ve come to ask the same thing,” Fiona said “We were told you were the site manager and were strictly overseeing everyone.”

  “Very true,” Erica laughed and sent them all off on various errands before settling herself at one of the tables to draw up a timetable of events.

  “Time for breakfast,” Gerald shrugged into his coat as he spoke. “Have you finished there?”

  “Nearly,” she said “I have only to arrange the teams for the boat race.”

  “Why not pull names out of a hat? That would be fair then.”

  “No it wouldn’t because you need equal numbers of men, women and children in each team,” Erica explained.

  “I’ll sort it after breakfast if you like, but we’re all heading back so come and eat now.”

  “If you are sure you don’t mind.” Erica handed him the list of those wanting to take part and then gathered up all the other papers she had been working on.

  As a group everyone walked back to the house, all claiming to be famished after such physical labour and waxing lyrical about what cook would have prepared. Erica did not have the heart to tell them that breakfast was to be a simple affair because they would all be having an early picnic lunch and cook was too busy preparing that to spend ages on the breakfast.

  The day grew steadily hotter so when everyone congregated for lunch they were glad of the shelter that had been erected that morning and keen to get on with the events planned for the gala. The whole of lunch was taken up with people expressing their favourite race or activity and reminiscing on g
alas gone by. Of-course, time had embellished several of the incidents and everyone laughed uproariously at some of the tales even though at the time, they had been quite put out, such as the occasion when Aunt Clara’s best hat had been used to bale out the water from a sinking boat and she had afterwards insisted on wearing it even though it was sopping wet and unsalvageable. Or the time Charlie had caught his swimming drawers on a protruding root and ripped them clean off. He had refused to leave the water until all the womenfolk had retired to their changing tent and guards had been posted at the door to prevent them peeking. His mother had not helped by telling him; in a voice loud enough to have made a sergeant major proud, that she had seen him naked and didn’t know why he was making such a fuss; it wasn’t as if he had anything to hide! By the time he had eventually emerged he was blue with cold and his teeth were chattering so loudly, they woke the babies from their afternoon nap much to the annoyance of the nannies.

  Before everyone rushed off to change, Erica ran through the timetable and for the benefit of the newcomer; namely Trevellyn, reminded everyone that each activity had been assigned judges and that their decision was final. She also pointed out that bribes were only acceptable in the form of chocolate of which, as organizer, she was entitled to a percentage.

  While Great Aunt Clara was put in charge of team lists and agendas, Erica joined her female relatives in the temporary changing room and everyone hurriedly donned costumes that had been specifically designed by the cousins, to allow the wearer to swim easily whilst maintaining their modesty.

  “The Marquis of Trevellyn seems to be seeking you out, Erica,” Fiona commented as they helped each other with the fastenings and then to tie back their hair. “Last night he danced with you and this morning he made his way straight to you.”

  “Don’t read anything into it, Fiona,” Erica warned. “He has no intentions towards me other than to annoy me, and I certainly have no intentions towards him other than to see as little of him as possible and not at all after these two weeks.”

  “How can you say that when he was so kind as to risk life and limb to teach you to waltz and then to politely offer to help this morning? He is all that is gentlemanly and incredibly handsome too,” Fiona persisted.

  “You don’t know him, believe me!” Erica replied.

  “I’ve known him as long as you have! I don’t understand why you don’t want to marry, especially when you have someone like him showing an interest in you,” Fiona said.

  “It’s complicated. Anyway, he’s the last man I’d marry!” Erica stated with feeling.

  “I wonder if you’ll still be saying that at the end of this fortnight. I bet if he turns on the charm even you will be unable to resist.”

  “Fiona, listen to me. He is a most annoying and obnoxious man. I do not and never will view him in a romantic light. I would never marry him!” Erica was becoming exasperated.

  “I think you may be protesting too much. Go on admit it. You like him,” Fiona teased.

  “No I do not. Not even a little bit. Just because you’re in love, does not mean I am.” Erica told her in no uncertain terms. “So don’t think I will soon be asking you to be my bridesmaid. Besides, at the risk of breaking your rose tinted glasses, Trevellyn is about to offer for Charlotte. Have you not noticed how he spends a lot of time in her company?”

  “No more than he spends with you. You are making that up, anyway. You cannot possibly know he is going to offer for Charlotte,” Fiona stated.

  “Yes I can because he told me himself! I just feel sorry for Charlotte.”

  “You needn’t. She won’t have him because she’s already in love with someone else!” Fiona declared.

  “Who?” Erica asked.

  “I can’t tell you. She doesn’t know herself yet but I know the signs and if I’m not mistaken her feelings are reciprocated.”

  “You’re not serious,” Erica was sure Fiona was jesting.

  “No it’s true. If you can drag your gaze away from Trevellyn for long enough you would see what I see.”

  “For the last time,” Erica said “I am not mooning after Trevellyn! Now come on its time for the boat race”

  “On you marks! Get set! Go!” Sir Richard Stanier shouted and four teams; consisting of two adults and two children, rushed for their boats amidst much cheering and applauding from the spectators. Erica lifted Thomas into their blue boat and deftly climbed in after him so that Michael and thirteen year old Jennifer could push it into the water. Charlotte and Trevellyn were in the red boat next to them and had already gained a lead by the time Erica had got the oars into position. The rules stated that each adult had to row one way and therefore as Michael was the stronger rower, it had been decided that he would take the homeward leg. Trevellyn’s team had opted for the other tactic and he was planning on building up a hefty lead on the outward leg, leaving Charlotte to row them home.

  Upon reaching the island in the middle of the lake it was the task of the children to retrieve a flag in their boat’s colour. The first team to present their flag to Sir Richard would be declared the winners.

  “Come on, Erica,” urged Michael, “Don’t let them get too far ahead.”

  “Sit down Thomas you’ll fall overboard if you’re not careful!” Jennifer grabbed him and pulled him down on the seat beside her; much to his annoyance, but she ignored his protests and gave a report on their opponent’s progress.

  “Gerald and Fiona are level with us, Fiona’s rowing. Charlie and Sophie are just behind but catching us fast. Quick, row a bit quicker.”

  “I’m doing the best I can! Thomas keep still you’re making it harder to row.”

  “Don’t place the oar so far in the water. Keep on course, you’re veering to the left a little,” Michael offered advice.

  “I can row, you know!” Erica was losing patience. “Where’s Trevellyn?”

  “About two boat lengths in front, he’s nearly at the island.”

  “But the children still have to find the flag. That might slow them down a bit because Emily doesn’t like creepy crawlies so she won’t want to traipse through the undergrowth,” Jennifer said optimistically.

  Erica quickened her pace ignoring the scream of her muscles and the sensation that her arms were about to be pulled out of their sockets. She knew she could not catch Trevellyn but she wanted to close the gap.

  “That’s it Erica, we’re in second place. Fiona and Charlie are a length behind!” Jennifer shouted excitedly.

  “Trevellyn’s at the island. Quick Erica, we’re nearly there,” Michael said as he prepared to jump out to pull the boat onto the little sandy beach.

  As the children climbed out and raced off, Erica rubbed her sore arms and shoulders; glad that her share of the rowing was over. Michael clapped her on the back.

  “Well done! I knew it would be worth it!” he said.

  “What would be worth it?” asked Erica puzzled.

  “All those hours it took to teach you to row!” he replied.

  “Why you cheeky monkey! Uncle Richard taught me to row at the same time he taught you and as I remember it, I learnt quicker than you!”

  “Alas, you have a faulty memory my dear,” Michael stated and laughed as she scooped up water and threw it at him.

  Trevellyn wandered over just at that moment and therefore it was he who was sprayed and not Michael. Water dripped from his hair, down his aristocratic nose and onto his shirt; much to the amusement of Erica who laughed.

  “Oops sorry, My Lord. But you shouldn’t have got in the way!”

  Just for good measure she scooped up some more water and let fly, catching Trevellyn again but this time hitting Michael as well.

  “Bulls eye!” she laughed, bending down to repeat the exercise but before she could, two strong and well-muscled arms wrapped themselves around her and lifted her clear off the ground. She struggled to no avail; she was pinned against a hard, masculine torso.

  “It was an accident,” she shrieked. “I was aiming fo
r Michael!”

  “Then he can have a say in your punishment! What shall it be, Michael?”

  As he spoke, Erica felt the deep rumble in his chest which affected her in strange and unfamiliar ways.

  We could make her walk the plank!” suggested Michael.

  “Or leave her on the island; marooned!” piped up Charlotte.

  “Charlotte! Whose side are you on?” asked Erica; affronted.

  “How about keel hauling her?” Gerald joined in.

  “Put me down!” Erica wriggled and the strong grasp tightened.

  “Ask nicely!” Trevellyn replied.

  “Put me down. Please”

  Trevellyn turned and waded a little way out in the water.

  “Your wish is my command, darling girl,” and so saying he swung her high and dropped her with an almighty splash.

  Erica gasped as she landed in the cool lake and inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of water. Spluttering she struggled to a sitting position and wiped the water from her face. Trevellyn pivoted to face the shore, and bowed to the others who stood there cheering before turning back and offering Erica his hand. After a slight hesitation she took it and he pulled her to her feet.

  “If you take your eye of the enemy, dearest, they are likely to sneak up behind you.”

  “So I have learned to my cost. Bask in your victory now Trevellyn, for it will not happen again!” she advised.

  “Give up now, you know you’re no match for me.”

  “Never!”

  Just then Charlotte called excitedly as Emily raced along, waving the flag above her head.

  “See you at the finish.” Trevellyn dropped her hand and dashed off to join his team where Charlotte was already seated with oars at the ready.

  Michael waited until Erica was close before saying, “Does he know how bad Charlotte is at rowing?”

  “Oh no, I forgot to mention it! Never mind eh?” she answered with a wolfish grin.

  Within a very little while Jennifer and Thomas reappeared and they set off with Michael confident at the oars. Erica waved happily as they caught and passed Trevellyn’s team although she did feel a twinge of remorse when she saw Charlotte’s woebegone face and heard her say, “I’m so sorry, I am not the best oarsman in the world!”