Smiling at the young lady’s shock, I walked over to the table and took a seat on one side. Mr. Richfield was mere seconds behind me. “Is there a particular reason you want to play piquet, Miss Forester?” he asked as he took his seat. “I would never have taken you as one fond of cards.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Will glare at me and my smile deepened. I had the perfect excuse and might kill two birds with one stone while I was at it. “I want to be able to beat Will.” If he thought I was getting lessons from Mr. Richfield, Will would work even harder to perfect his piquet skills. He’d have no time for plotting with Sarah. “I can think of no one better to instruct me.”
The look Mr. Richfield gave me showed clearly he wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not. “Well, I suppose we should play a game so I can find out just what you know,” he said, apparently deciding not to press the issue.
Nodding, I picked up the cards, inwardly rejoicing I had successfully managed to keep him out of Sarah’s plot. I had the feeling next time it wouldn’t be so easy.
Chapter Nine
My piquet skills were nowhere near Will’s level, so my defeat came within minutes. Mr. Richfield spent the rest of the evening showing me different strategies and often had to remind me of the rules associated with the game. Jealous, Will watched with narrowed eyes, and Sarah sulked at the pianoforte.
I honestly expected Father to say something to Sarah about her questioning on our ride back home. But he didn’t, and I should have known better than to think he would in front of the whole family. He merely steered her into the library as soon as we stepped foot in the hall.
She had not returned by the time I changed into my nightgown. I brushed and braided my hair, and still, she hadn’t come up. For a moment, I debated leaving the candle on the dressing table for her but decided it wouldn’t be wise since at this point I had no idea when she would be joining me. Once I blew the tiny flame out, I dashed over to bed.
I was nearly asleep when Sarah finally stormed in. Blinking in the light from the candle she brought with her, I lifted my head to peer at her. The expression on her face was one of fury, and I knew better than to ask what Father had said to her. Sighing, I closed my eyes and laid my head back on my pillow.
After a restful night of sleep, a small part of me felt sorry for Sarah getting scolded by Father again. Twice in three days had to be some new accomplishment, and not a good one. Still, she had brought it on herself by pursuing her theory.
Feeling generous, I resolved to give her a few days to think better of getting the proof she wanted. If she did not, I had no qualms about relieving her of her chief conspirator. We would see how she fared on her own.
Those were not the most Christian thoughts to be having on a Sunday morning. To distract myself, I asked, over breakfast, “Papa, have you learned anything new about the highwayman?”
“Oh, let’s not start that conversation again,” Aunt Forester said with a groan. “I‘ve heard quite enough about this highwayman. It’s all Mr. Forester would speak of last night.”
Will perked up from where he had been glaring at his food. He had been unusually sullen since he watched Mr. Richfield give me a lesson on piquet. “Did the highwayman strike again?” he asked eagerly. “When?”
Looking more severe than I had seen him in some time, Papa lowered his fork. “Yes, the highwayman struck two nights ago,” he said. “Shots were fired, and Mr. Sandwood’s groom was wounded. Fortunately, there was no one in the carriage at the time.”
Someone had been hurt, just as I had wondered. “The poor man! Will he recover?” I asked with concern.
At the same time, Will asked, “Where?”
“The man will recover,” Papa said to me. He leveled his gaze on Will. “I know you want to run off and see what you can find, so I will not tell you where it happened. This man is armed and dangerous. I don’t want any of you children going off on your own. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the three of us all chorused. Sarah sounded the most annoyed with the situation, though it was difficult to be sure as Will was also reluctant to voice his understanding.
“It’s a shame such a terrible person has come to the county,” Uncle Forester said, not in the least bit distracted from his breakfast. “It’s nearly as bad as the crime in London.”
“Mr. Forester, it most certainly is not as bad as that!” Aunt Forester said in protest. “You will give your brother a terrible opinion of London and then I will never get them to join us for a Season!”
Father laughed. “Mary, I can assure you, I would not go to London even if it were the safest place to be.”
That sparked a debate between the older members of the family on the advantages and disadvantages of London. I had heard it all before. Every year, Aunt Forester tried to convince Mother and Father a London Season would benefit all of us. And each year, they had refused, saying it was too much expense. I had been beyond shocked when my parents had conceded to allow me to go this year.
The Sunday routine had not changed at all in the time I had been away, and Mother urged us all to be ready on time. And, as always, Sarah was the last to come rushing down the stairs. “Do you suppose we will see Mr. Richfield with the Sandwoods today?” she asked, as she tied her bonnet.
“I imagine so,” Mother said absently.
I, on the other hand, glared at my sister. The only reason she could have to be interested in whether or not Mr. Richfield was there would be for some plot she and her friend had devised. To divert another interrogation attempt, I would have to be on my toes.
Sarah may have thought she was being helpful, but in truth, she was doing the exact opposite.
EVEN IF SOMEONE HAD approached me immediately at the conclusion of the service and asked what the sermon was about, I would not have been able to answer. Mr. Richfield had sat with the Sandwoods, near the front of the church, and my attention was not what it should have been.
I searched my brain for some inconspicuous way to keep Sarah from rushing to the Sandwoods after the service. In the end, all I did was loop my arm around hers and spin her around, so we both faced the most gregarious lady we knew: the Widow Davison. “Mrs. Davison!” I said brightly, to get her attention. “How are you?”
“Miss Forester. Miss Sarah.” Mrs. Davison focused on us with obvious delight. Beside me, I heard Sarah groan. As much as we adored Mrs. Davison, she could monopolize anyone’s time. “How well you two look today. Every time I see you, you both have become more beautiful. You must tell me your secret.”
“Thank you,” I said, used to her compliments. “May Sarah and I walk you home today? Or do you have a handsome young man to escort you?”
Since I was a small child, Mrs. Davison had always claimed to be waiting for a handsome man to come along and sweep her off her feet. “No handsome gentleman today, I’m afraid,” the older woman said. “So I will gladly accept your assistance.”
In the past year, it had become harder and harder for Mrs. Davison to get around. She was nearing eighty years of age, and was not as steady on her feet as she once was. I caught Mother’s eye and inclined my head towards Mrs. Davison. Understanding, Mother nodded her permission. “Now, we must have a proper chat sometime, girls,” Mrs. Davison said as I took her right arm to help support her. “I hardly know what has happened in your lives recently.”
To try to beg off now would be rude and would result in another talking to from Father, and Sarah knew it. “Nothing ever happens,” my sister said, taking the widow’s left side. We began walking towards the Mrs. Davison’s home. “But Diana has news you should know.”
“Oh? Surely if you had something interesting to tell me, you would have found your way to my cottage already,” Mrs. Davison said, looking at me with interest. “Come, tell me all, Diana. I must know. What news do you have?”
On any other day, I would have been furious Sarah would have revealed such a personal detail from my life. But I was giddy from my victory in foiling Sara
h’s plot and found I didn’t mind. “You met the young gentleman who is staying with the Sandwoods?” was all I asked. It was all I would need to say.
Mrs. Davison brightened. “I did. He is such a gentleman. Are you—is he—? Diana Forester! Are you being courted?”
“Please, it’s not well known,” I felt obliged to tell her. It wouldn’t do to have anyone overhear our conversation. “Yes, I do believe I am.”
“Well, it’s about time a good man discovered you,” Mrs. Davison said with no little satisfaction. “I had begun to think the young men of your generation were complete fools. I won’t press you for details now, but you must come by soon to tell me everything.”
I laughed. It felt so good to speak of it to someone who was not of my family. I ignored the glare Sarah had directed at me was easy to overlook. “You have my word I will do so. And not on a Sunday, either. This kind of conversation shouldn’t happen on the Lord’s day.”
“Oh, my! What kind of thing is that to say, Diana?”Mrs. Davison feigned shock before smiling with satisfaction. “Your heart must have truly been touched, Diana. I am delighted to know it.”
I wasn’t exactly sure how what I said could tell her that, but I wasn’t about to deny it. We reached her doorstep, and she let us go. “Run along,” she said, the slightest hint of worry in her eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to get caught by that terrible highwayman.”
Sarah opened her mouth. Terrified of what she might say, I stepped on her foot. “I hardly think he would attack us in broad daylight,” I said, as Sarah yelped in pain. “Good day, Mrs. Davison. We’ll come visit this week.”
Mrs. Davison waved us on our way as I practically dragged Sarah away. “Let go of me,” Sarah finally said, pulling her arm free. “Just what are you trying to do, Diana? Pull my arm off?”
“Sorry.” Maybe I had held on too tight. “Let’s get home. We don’t want to keep Papa from his meal.”
“If you’re so worried about that, you shouldn’t volunteer us to walk Mrs. Davison home. I wanted to talk to Charlotte.”
Just as I thought. Only I would wager my best bonnet they would not be chatting about the latest fashions. “We were just there, and nothing new could have happened overnight.” I slowed my steps and took a deep breath of the spring air. “Isn’t it a gorgeous day? I am so happy winter is behind us.”
“You’re just trying to change the subject,” Sarah said, sounding less grumpy. She sighed. “I wish you would have let me tell Mrs. Davison about Mr. Richfield. Now she’s going to think he’s such a great catch, and her heart will be broken when she finds out the truth.”
“Well, since I highly doubt you will ever prove Mr. Richfield is a highwayman, I hardly think that is something I need to worry about.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I had once again said the wrong thing. Sarah’s face darkened. “Is that a challenge?” she asked, her tone cold.
“No! Sarah, I just—.” I broke off, not knowing how to reach my now angry sister. “I am so tired of you saying you have to prove Mr. Richfield is a highwayman. Don’t you understand what would happen if someone outside of our family heard you?”
“You are so concerned with what other people think, Diana!”
“Of course I am! What you and I do reflects on our parents. If we do not act with the utmost propriety, our neighbors will believe we have not been educated as we should have been.”
“Being mindful of who we allow into our acquaintance does not mean we were not educated, Diana! And if we discover something unsavory about one of our acquaintances, we have no choice but to make sure others are aware of it!”
“But you don’t know for sure Mr. Richfield is ‘unsavory’ as you put it.”
“Because you won’t let me find out for sure!”
By this time we were facing each other. We both had our hands on our hips and were glaring at each other. Mother was nowhere near us to intervene in this argument, and since neither of us was about to back down, I had no idea how this impasse would end.
“Give me one good reason why I should let you interrogate and possibly humiliate the man I intend to marry,” I said without thinking.
Shock filled Sarah’s face, and I realized what I had said. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You—you’re actually going to marry him? Diana, not long ago you didn’t know if you even wanted to know him and now you’re in love with him? What do you even know about him?”
My anger faded away as I thought about what I knew. “I know he is an honorable man,” I said quietly. “I know he came to talk to Papa when I had given him every reason to think that I had no interest in him. He has two sisters he cares for a great deal, and he has befriended Will, which is no easy feat. Everything I know about him tells me he is a good man.”
“And you’re just going to ignore what I think?”
Why did she have to question me on everything? “It is not my intention to ignore you, Sarah. But you ignored my wishes. Please, leave Mr. Richfield alone. Don’t try to trap him in one of your plots.”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure Sarah would listen to me. “I swear I will cease trying to interrogate him if that makes you happy,” she finally said. “But you have to promise me you will not blindly accept an offer from him without at least considering I might be onto something.”
Believing that to be the best I would ever get from her, I nodded. “I promise.”
Nodding once, Sarah started walking. “We should get home before Papa sends out a search party.”
Breathing out, I quickly caught up with her. “Just out of curiosity, what were you and Miss Sandwood planning?”
Sarah glanced over at me and shook her head. “Diana, if I told you, you wouldn’t be happy.”
“Why? Sarah, what were you planning to do?” Without answering, Sarah began to hum and she skipped ahead of me. “Sarah Forester! Tell me!” But no matter what I threatened or how much I pleaded, Sarah refused to say a word about it.
Sisters.
THE REST OF THE DAY passed with no other problems. Sarah, as she would do whenever she was thinking about something, had withdrawn into herself. Knowing Aunt and Uncle Forester would be leaving the next day, I spent my time with them. Mr. Richfield crossed my mind on many occasions, as did Philip Knighton.
When Monday dawned, it was a bright, beautiful spring day. With tears in my eyes, I hugged my aunt and uncle just before they climbed into their carriage. Despite the disapproval and disappointment I knew Aunt Forester to have, they both had taken such good care of me in London. I knew I would miss them dearly.
Having no task for me to accomplish, Mother dismissed me to amuse myself. Father was at work in the library, so I knew playing the pianoforte would annoy him. Instead, I picked up the novel I had bought in London that I hadn’t had a free moment to begin. I was fully prepared to read for the rest of the day.
Sarah, though, had other ideas. “Let’s go for a walk,” she said, coming into the sitting room.
I gazed at her over the pages of my book. “Why?”
“Because I want to do something! Sitting around is so—boring.”
“I thought you were going to practice your archery, so you could show your skill at the Knighton’s house party,” I said with a sigh. I uncurled from my seat in the window. “Why didn’t you ask Will to take a walk?”
“Will is reviewing everything he knows about piquet, for some odd reason. He’s playing against himself and insists he can’t leave it. I thought to practice my archery, but somehow I lost all of my arrows over the winter. I can’t convince Mother to find them for me.”
It never failed when one of us misplaced something, we would run straight to Mother to find it. How she managed always to find the item, I didn’t think I would ever know. Maybe it was a skill all mothers developed?
“Why won’t Mother help you?”
“She says I need to learn to keep my belongings organized and neat.” Sarah grabbed my arm and tugged. “Come on, Diana. You k
now I can’t go for a walk on my own. Not after Father was so insistent about it.”
I knew she would never leave me alone if I tried to ignore her or outright refused. “Fine,” I said, closing my book with a sigh. “I’ll get ready. But I don’t see how a walk is going to help you find your bow and arrows.”
My sister let out a long sigh. “If I don’t think about it, I am sure it will come to me. Now, hurry!”
Briefly, I considered taking my time getting dressed for a walk but decided I did not want to risk annoying Sarah. I feared to do so would bring back her determination to prove Mr. Richfield a highwayman. It was much safer to go along with her today and keep the peace that had settled between us.
Ten minutes later, with my boots laced up, my bonnet on my head, and my spencer jacket buttoned on, I joined Sarah in the foyer. “Finally!” she said impatiently. “I thought you would never be ready.”
“Well, I am now. Where shall we walk to?”
“Oh, anywhere.”
With that vague answer, she walked out the door, and I followed her. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and I breathed in the scent of spring carried on the light breeze. It was a beautiful day, and I found myself glad Sarah had pulled me from my book so I could enjoy it.
“Do you think we’ll make friends with the ladies who will be at the house party?” Sarah asked minutes into our walk. She had chosen the path we would traverse, going down the lane toward the village. I sincerely hoped we would not be making any visits.
“I should hope so,” I said, taking care to step around a fallen branch. “We are to spend several days in their company, and it wouldn’t be enjoyable to begin by taking a dislike to someone. Mrs. Knighton’s acquaintances are generally pleasant people.”
“Must you always speak so positively?” Sarah asked, glancing over her shoulder at me.
I frowned at her. “What do you mean? I don’t always speak in a positive manner.” These past few weeks of agonizing over my relationship with Mr. Richfield had taught me that. “Is there a problem with me trying to speak about the good in things?”
A Chaotic Courtship Page 9