"If Papa and Aunt Penny think it best I remain in the country, then I shall." Charlotte sighed and glanced from the rim of her cup to the plate of small cakes sitting on the table just to the right of Muriel.
"Allow me," said Muriel, retrieving the dish and offering Charlotte a cake. "I believe Papa is on his way home to manage the influx of gentlemen who have descended upon us."
"Yes, there are so many." Apparently Susan continued to have difficulty with the concept of London gentlemen inhabiting their small village of Bloxwich. "His Grace, yes, he could set things to right"
Charlotte placed her teacup upon its saucer ever so lightly, so as not to risk injuring the fine Dresden china, and then selected one of the cakes. "Thank you, Moo. I honestly cannot believe I am this famished."
"I expect you really need not travel to Town. The country is also where both our beloved Gusta and Em found their husbands," Susan declared. "I suppose it must be possible for you to do so as well."
Aunt Penny entered, appearing as fatigued as Charlotte, and joined the gathering. Muriel moved to fetch her a cup of tea.
"Not right now, dear," said Aunt Penny, staying Muriel's effort with the wave of her hand. "I need a few moments to just sit. What an afternoon it has been!"
"I am sorry to have put you through that ordeal, Aunt Penny." Guilt swept through Charlotte. Not only had she endured the long afternoon, but Aunt Penny had as well, remaining until the last gentleman departed.
"Do not feel as if you have caused me any pains at all, my dearest Char-Char. I had no knowledge of it then, but now that the day has played out, I believe your solution was most sensible. There was not one disagreement among all your gentlemen callers. Not one fist or voice was raised all afternoon. All of them behaved like ... gentlemen. I am quite amazed and pleased at their behavior."
"I, too, am pleased." Charlotte gazed into her teacup and a smile came to her lips. The gentlemen were delightful company. "I abhor quarreling above all and I will not abide their fighting."
"Do not say they were actually striking one another?" Susan looked from Muriel to Charlotte.
Charlotte nodded.
"You cannot like that," Susan agreed. "Tell me, CharChar, is there not one or two that you favor among them?"
"No, I do not believe I do." Charlotte tilted her head and seemingly gazed toward the window to find her answer. "How can I possibly? They each have unique admirable qualities to recommend them and each one is a fine gentleman indeed."
"You see, that is the difficulty." Muriel needed to point out the obvious because, until someone came up with a solution for the dilemma, they would continue to have too many men at Faraday Hall.
"How shall we occupy them tomorrow?" asked Aunt Penny, appearing to welcome anyone to voice an answer. They needed a solution.
"Tomorrow? You don't expect them all to return, do you?" Muriel looked from her aunt to her sister.
Both Charlotte and Aunt Penny shrugged and neither commented.
"We cannot allow pandemonium," Muriel stated emphatically. "That is what could have happened today."
Those were exactly Charlotte's thoughts.
"I think it best if we limit the number of suitors," Muriel suggested.
"I won't have to choose, will I?" Charlotte's eyes widened and grew moist. She hated to think of the others she would disappoint. "I do not think I can possibly manage that. How can I possibly choose among them? It would be most unfair."
"I wasn't thinking you should need to," said Muriel. By the look on her face, she had a plan in the works.
"Why would it matter?" said Susan. "Choose a half dozen or so-Char-Char likes them all."
"Yes, we can invite six for tea," Muriel continued. "Instead of us choosing, each of the gentlemen will have to earn their spot"
"Earn? How?" Charlotte straightened, interested in her sister's plan. "I must admit it would be a great help if there were a way to limit the number of callers."
"If we could have them perform a task that would make a few of them stand out ... " Muriel fell quiet for a few moments and then burst out with excitement, nearly frightening them. "Fruit tarts, biscuits, and scones!"
"You don't propose we have the gentlemen bake for us?" Charlotte uttered in surprise. "We might all regret feasting where the gentlemen, as agreeable and handsome as they are, have had a hand in the food preparation."
"No, no. I do not mean we should go quite that far." Muriel stifled her laughter. "We'll have the gentlemen pick berries for us, for Charlotte. Her favorite ones."
"It's a bit early for gooseberries, don't you think?" Aunt Penny sat back in her chair.
"Not in the patch on Owl Hill to the south," said Muriel. It seemed she had thought her plan out. "We always find the first ripe berries of the season there. Even now some will be ready, perhaps not many; I'm sure there will be enough. The first six gentlemen who fill their pails will be invited to take tea with Charlotte."
Charlotte liked the idea immediately. How clever her sister was to have thought of giving the men a quest.
Aunt Penny, however, gave her youngest niece's suggestion more thought before asking, "And how, exactly, would we notify the gentlemen of this task?"
Muriel smiled. "I thought I would enlist the help of a man whose very life's passion is to create a gaming environment-Sir Nicholas Petersham."
"Moo"-Aunt Penny smiled and exhaled, sounding as if she were completely at ease now-"I believe I am ready for that cup of tea."
Muriel had been quite correct. If there were even a hint of profitable sport, Sir Nicholas Petersham would most heartedly wish to be included. His talents would be put to good use. He said he was delighted to be of service to the Duke of Faraday, when Aunt Penny, on behalf of the family, contacted him.
Sir Nicholas answered the summons several hours later. Aunt Penny, Muriel, and Charlotte were there to greet him. Muriel laid out her plan before them all.
She would bring the small pails, provided by the kitchen, which the gentlemen would fill with ripe gooseberries. They would be baked and then served at tea for Charlotte and the first six gentlemen, along with Aunt Penny, Muriel, Susan Wilbanks, and Sir Nicholas.
Sir Nicholas agreed to pass on the contest details to the gentlemen in the village. The following day, he would lead the interested parties to the arranged meeting place.
The next morning at ten, Muriel met the local baronet and the nearly two dozen men he brought with him to The Wild Rose Inn. Muriel dressed in a sedate sprigged muslin and a straw chip to shield her face from the sun. Crawford, one of the kitchen staff, accompanied her, along with a goodly number of tin pails. They led the way to the top of the hill, driving along in her pony cart pulled by Buttercup.
Sir Nicholas agreed to serve as referee to assure the gents behaved themselves and the competition was done on the up-and-up. Crawford had the final say and would assure each pail contained the proper volume of ripe berries.
Muriel left the men, who were anxious to begin their gooseberry hunt, in the care of Sir Nicholas.
Satisfied that the task would continue as planned, Muriel boarded the pony cart and started back for Faraday Hall.
Sir Philip Somerville replaced his hat firmly on his head without regard to whether it sat at a rakish angle. He walked along the side of the dirt road, swinging his walking stick in sync with his stride and considered how, once again, his curiosity had gotten the better of him.
A scant hour ago he traveled from the north on his way to London in his curricle, of moderate age, with his excellent, newly purchased pair of matched bays. Not long after, he spied a line of travelers moving south. The large party so intrigued Philip, he gave in to temptation, altering his direction to follow them and discover their final destination.
No sooner had he turned east, not yet on the same road as the procession, when the wheel of his curricle dropped into a hole and the vehicle came to an immediate stop.
The horses lurched, nearly breaking free. Philip kept them steady with ca
lming words and gentle hands. He descended the crippled vehicle to see to the well-being of his bays and further examine his rig. Not only had his wheel broken, but the axle had snapped. It was then he realized his journey had come to an end, but he did not doubt a new adventure was about to unfold.
"You look as if you could use some help." A trustworthy-looking fellow approached while Philip mulled over how to unhitch his team. "If I may be of service to ya, sir."
Philip straightened to reply, "I would very much appreciate the assistance. Whom do I have the honor of thanking?"
The man pulled his cap from his head and introduced himself. "Donny Ellis, sir."
The local villager took it upon himself to carry Philip's leather chest and lead the horses, with the traces hanging over his shoulder, while leaving Philip empty-handed with the exception of his walking stick.
A good twenty minutes after they had taken to foot on their way to the local village of Bloxwich, a small cart, pulled by a small pony and driven by a young lass, came rolling up behind them.
"You there," Philip called out to the girl. "Stop. Halt, I say!"
The cart slowed to a standstill and the girl regarded the sight confronting her at the side of the road.
"Good thing you come along-" Mr. Ellis began, shifting the trunk in his arms.
"Yes, yes, my good man." With his raised, York tangloved hand, Philip motioned to Ellis to remain quiet. There was no need to make any further arrangement. The baronet could manage from here. "We're very appreciative that the ... young lady ... and her ... her transport has chance to pass." He eyed the pony and the cart, feeling thankful that she had happened by and hoping the diminutive steed would prove sufficient.
"If you'll be headed toward Faraday Hall, His Grace is a good man. He'll offer a gent such as yourself a place to stay." Ellis gestured, the best he could, toward his companion.
Philip raised his silver-topped cane. "Young miss, if you would be so good as to convey me to Faraday Hall, I would be most grateful." He motioned for Ellis to set the leather chest upon the back of the pony cart while Philip settled onto the front seat next to the driver.
The young lady obviously needed some instruction, and Philip provided it. "Onward, if you please." He indicated the forward direction with his walking stick.
She remained still and replied, "No `thank you'?"
"We have not arrived at our destination, my dear," he teased her. "You might have failed to notice that we have yet to depart!"
"Not to me," she snapped. "A thank you to Mr. Ellis, for carrying your trunk and caring for your horses."
"Yes, the fine fellow was good enough to give me a hand with my luggage and my cattle. You need not concern yourself over an appropriate expression of gratitude on my part"
Philip had no idea what age this slip of a girl was. Regardless of her plain garment and simple straw hat, she was no country lass, and he found her decorum remarkable for someone so young. What was this young lady of quality doing roaming around the countryside alone?
The gentlemanly part of him felt the need to extend his protection, see to her well-being, and the other part could not resist roasting her! It amused him to play the part of someone a bit more pretentious, if only to tease her.
Philip leaned toward her to whisper something he suspected would displease her: "He was friendly enough, but I honestly could not understand half of what he said."
The narrowing of her eyes displayed her annoyance. "I'm afraid that Mr. Ellis has been correct in assuming you might find temporary shelter at Faraday Hall. Especially since it appears your vehicle might have broken down on or near the Duke's property. It is unclear whose misfortune this truly is."
For the next thirty-five minutes she remained quiet while Philip subjected her to a full narration of the landscape and commentary of their journey, along with his opinion on both topics. Not once had she interrupted him to add her own remarks or introduce herself.
The pony cart turned a corner, approaching a man working his field up ahead. The farmer ceased his toil to wave at the passersby.
"Pull up at once, missy," the baronet ordered. The young lady reined in the pony, bringing the cart to a stop. Philip addressed the man in the field, "Excuse me, sir, might I make an inquiry?"
"Me, sir?" The man standing in the field indicated himself.
"Yes, you, sir." Philip lifted his walking stick. Sunlight gleamed off its silver lion-headed top. "Can you tell me about all this coming and going on round here? There's an abnormal number of fine rigs lining the road beyond. Tell me, sir, what goes on there?"
"Ah-don't know rightly if them the same morts as what's gone to Faraday `All the day afore."' The farmer wiped his forehead with a swipe of his sleeve. "Can't say where them be off to this fine mornin'."
"Faraday Hall, did you say?" It was convenient that Philip was now bound in that direction. No doubt, once there, he would be in a position to fully sate his curiosity.
"That's His Grace's, the Duke's place, it is. He's got three lover-ly girls, he does."
"Does he, now?" Philip remarked.
"That's right, he does."
With his head tilted, Philip eyed the young lady seated next to him. Was it possible his driver was one of His Grace's offspring? "How fortunate for the Duke that he is blessed with three beautiful daughters."
"Right enough, that what I said!" the farmer returned.
"Not precisely, but my translation appears adequate," Philip whispered to the young lady.
"This man"-she indicated Philip with the nod of her head-"is far too polite to ask that you tell him the particulars, but he does wish to know. Mr. Gilbert, pray do go on."
What an impertinent female she is!
"The first girl's already gone, married a few years back," Farmer Gilbert said. "That was a right mess, all those fancy morts showin' up an' gettin' puffed off one by one."
"Really? How interesting," said Philip, but he could not prevent a small sigh from escaping. Apparently this young woman was capable of retaliation, bringing about as much irritation as he had caused her.
"Is Grace's middle girl ... There's a lady, an angel, everyone thinks so. She's slipped her halo into her reticule and hidin' a pair of wings 'neath her cloak, that one does."
"Does she really?" Philip managed a polite smile, pained at having to endure the unnecessary conversation that consumed precious time. They really should have been on their way.
"A finer lady you'll never meet, m'lord. Never, I says, if you ask me."
It seemed to Philip his traveling companion thoroughly enjoyed watching him in his discomfort. He could not allow this young miss to get the best of him, so he begged another answer from the farmer, proving Philip could participate in a full and thorough conversation.
"You mentioned the Duke having three daughters? What can you tell me about the youngest? A paragon in her own right, no doubt? Surpassing her sisters, perhaps?"
The broad-faced Farmer Gilbert glanced at the girl next to Philip in the pony cart, and guffawed with a wide grin, pointing his large, dirty finger at them. "Wot there's Lady Muriel right next to you, m'lord."
Philip had suspected the very thing to be true, but even when he heard the words, he could not believe it. She was a duke's daughter. Of course she had impeccable manners. The baronet turned his head and lifted the quizzing glass dangling at the end of a ribbon he wore around his neck to regard her.
She remained quiet and tilted her chin upward to give him a splendid view of her profile.
"Lady Muriel, is it?" Keeping his face impassive, he took an extraordinary amount of time to examine his driver. Then he lied, "And I thought you a simple country bumpkin."
Muriel rolled into the stable yards at Faraday Hall with Sir Philip by her side. After the discovery of her identity, the baronet, in line to inherit the title of Earl of Danbury upon the death of his father-who presently enjoyed exceptionally good health-deemed it necessary that he should introduce himself, despite Muriel's objection.
She would rather not know any more about him.
Aunt Penny and Charlotte met Muriel and their unexpected visitor on the terrace at the rear of the house.
"Sir Philip, this is my aunt, Mrs. Parker." Muriel turned to Aunt Penny. "Sir Ph-"
"Sir Philip Somerville, Exquisite." With a full extension and outward sweep of his arms, in what Muriel thought was a windmill-like motion, Sir Philip lifted his left knee waist high and traced a pattern with the pointed toe of his boot. He drew in a breath before lightly placing his foot before him, preparing to complete his bow.
Finishing the motion, he swept the edge of his coat with his left hand and flared the tail of his garment out to one side before artfully casting his arm forward before him.
Aunt Penny took a step back.
With a stylish flip of his right wrist, Sir Philip positioned his right arm in an arc over his head, and descended low into the bow, nearly reaching his foot.
"Goodness!" Aunt Penny cried at his lavish display, appearing to have been left a bit breathless.
"Ah, me. . ." Charlotte's eyes fluttered and she placed her hand lightly upon her throat, drawing in a labored breath.
It was probably too much flourish for a person to take in all at once. At least, it had been for Muriel. "Honestly," she whispered, unable to keep silent.
"I would not dare impose upon His Grace, Mrs. Parker, but my curricle hit a nasty hole on the road. Several spokes split and the wheel dislodged itself, sending the axle to the ground where it summarily snapped in two"
"How unfortunate," Aunt Penny commented.
"For us," Muriel added softly.
"A kind villager happened to pass by and came to my aid. Mr. Ellis will see to the care of my horses and make preliminary arrangements for my vehicle's repair on my behalf. I must attend to the final arrangements with the local wheelwright as soon as possible. I would normally obtain temporary residence in a nearby establishment, but as I understand, there is not an empty room to be had within ten miles."
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