Lady Vivian

by Agnes Forest

  “And you?” Sawyer asked.

  “Yes?” she replied too quickly.

  “Do you live near?”

  “Ah, yes,” Vivian replied. “I live in South Downs. It’s a very short ride from here.”

  “Your family haven't a sixpence to scratch with,” Sawyer said humorously. Unfortunately, the joke fell flat. In Sawyer’s experience with his many wealthy friends, money proved to be a dull topic.

  “I suppose that South Downs has its monied inhabitants,” Vivian replied with ladylike grace.

  For Sawyer, that was a great understatement. South Downs was where the wealthy went for peace and quiet when life in London could no longer be tolerated. The estates were notorious for their splendor, and the beaches were capital, albeit exclusive. The more common folk would flock to the shores of Brighton in lieu of disturbing the aristocracy of South Downs.

  “You said that you are a lieutenant?” Vivian went on, wishing to know more.

  “Correct. I returned from the war some months back.”

  “How remarkable that you came home in such perfect condition,” Vivian replied.

  There are wounds, alright, but no visible scars. Sawyer couldn’t say it aloud, but he felt it deeply.

  “I was blessed, I must admit.” Sawyer instinctively looked down to Vivian’s left hand - tiny, pearlescent, and smooth - to see if there was a ring. He was caught in the act when Vivian gracefully pulled her hands behind her back in response.

  “What brings you —,” they both said in unison. Would the embarrassment never cease? Sawyer began the conversation anew.

  “What brings you out this morning?” he asked. It was novel to see a beautiful young lady in the countryside without an escort. In fact, he had to wonder if it was even legal.

  “I was on my horse - my new horse!” Vivian said with enthusiasm, and skipped over to Caelus, tied to a tree. “Caelus, I’d like you to meet a fine gentleman that served in the War.” Vivian was very serious when she made this introduction. Caelus neighed.

  “Very good to meet you, Caelus,” Sawyer replied.

  “This was our first adventure together, and I must say that it was a success,” Vivian said, petting the horse’s sides.

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “And you? What has brought you to the fields?”

  “I have an ongoing engagement with some fellow gentlemen. This is the day of our weekly fox hunt,” Sawyer explained, watching Vivian pet her horse.

  Such tremendous spirit, Sawyer thought to himself. So keen on adventure. It was palpable, the girl’s desire to live to the fullest. Sawyer perceived a strong sense of longing within himself and cleared his throat. He had not experienced that biting desire for some time. It was her heady mixture of ladylike grace and vivacity. Utterly intoxicating.

  “And are you - were you - accompanied by a gentleman?” Sawyer asked. He was aware that this question was all too blatant.

  “No, I was accompanied by my chaperone. Sadly, her horse was suffering from some misbehavior and they stopped roughly one kilometer away.” Vivian briefly thought of the man that would have liked to escort her on that morning. Should she mention him?

  No, never mind the pressing issue of Lord Phillip. She could scarce bring it up. His very name turned to acid on her tongue.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps I can be of some assistance. I know a thing or two about horses,” Sawyer replied.

  “I must admit that Fanny is more adept at horses than I otherwise thought. But it is most kind of you to offer, m’lord,” Vivian said.

  Sawyer’s heart sank. He had never been called Lord before. He thought that perhaps he should amend the misstatement, but when he tried to speak towards the issue, his mouth would not form the words. Fatal error? Time would tell.

  Just then a crisp gust of wind passed through and Vivian gave Sawyer a beguiling, entrancing gaze.

  Sawyer had to smile to himself in realizing that the cause of Vivian’s fluttering eyelashes was a bit of dust that had been lodged into her eye.

  “Heavens,” Vivian protested, unable to see.

  “Are you alright?” Sawyer asked.

  Vivian was unsure whether to laugh or cry. Surely, crying would be most useful because then she might dislodge that miserable particle.

  Sawyer walked towards her as though heeding the call of a fallen soldier.

  “Oh, but it burns,” Vivian proclaimed.

  “Come here,” Sawyer said, taking her by the hand and leading her to the fallen tree. He sat her down and kneeled before her, bringing his fingers to the brow above her right eye. She was squinting with force. “Can you open it?” he asked.

  Vivian tried to open the obstructed eye but could not keep the lid up for long. It continued to flutter in protest. Finally, she was able to hold it steady and Sawyer was filled with compassion. Her beautiful brown eye looked back at him, the white of which were now red with agitation. Sawyer leaned in close and inspected, spotting the intruder.

  “Don’t move,” Sawyer said, and took a handkerchief from his pocket, gingerly wetting it with his tongue, dabbing it upon the arrant speck of dust, and swiftly removing it. Vivian fluttered her eyelashes again to test the success of the mission and a smile came to her lips.

  “I think it worked,” she said, no longer feeling the angry scratch.

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Sawyer removed his hand from her brow and placed it upon the patient’s shoulder. Vivian sensed this keenly. His hand felt heavy and firm.

  A horse was heard off in the distance. Vivian and Sawyer could not have been caught in a worse position. As Fanny crested the hill, she encountered her worst fears.

  Sawyer pulled away, standing to full height. Vivian, in kind, took to her feet. Fanny was upon them, and looked down on the pair from her saddle.

  “Why did you venture so far?” Fanny protested.

  “I was unaware of how far I had come. The ride was enjoyable,” Vivian explained.

  “Well, enjoy yourself a bit nearer next time,” Fanny said, beginning her slow, weighty descent from her horse. Without the pitchfork to aid her, heaving her large frame off the animal was no small feat. Both Vivian and Sawyer watched in wonder. The chaperone leaned forward, made several attempts to throw one leg over to meet the other, and each attempt was unsuccessful. It was like a slow, surreal dance that went on for ages. Sawyer stifled a laugh before he took action.

  “Allow me to be of assistance,” he said, putting out two hands to steady the lady. She slid down the side of the horse and, unfortunately for Sawyer, his two palms - meant to guide her - ended up on Fanny’s fanny, of all things. It was a sincere accident. “My apologies,” Sawyer said in penitence, but Fanny swatted him like a fly.

  “I’m quite capable of doing it myself,” Fanny said, considering swatting him one more time for good measure. Once face to face with the man who was seeking to no doubt molest her young charge, she was filled with even more dread. She could finally see that he was handsome. It was as plain as day. Oh, it was all so wicked.

  “And what are the likes of you doing with an unescorted lady in the field, might I ask? Have you no decency?” Fanny accused.

  There was a lump in Sawyer’s throat. Vivian was at a loss, but forced herself to speak.

  “He was merely on a fox hunt, dearest Fanny,” Vivian replied, trying to appease her. When Fanny was angry, she was a querulous ox of a woman under her dainty bonnet.

  Fanny kept her eyes on Sawyer, evaluating what she saw before her.

  Sawyer pulled away from her fierce gaze and realization sank in; he didn’t know where the devil his hound was. And what happened to the fox? Sawyer surreptitiously looked towards the hole where the fox had originally hidden.

  On the perimeter, St. John had become so bored and un-enamored of the situation that he was chewing on a stick. Most importantly, the hound was calm. If only Sawyer could have a few more moments to spend in Vivian’s company.

  “Let’s have a seat so you m
ight rest yourself.” Sawyer said to Fanny, by way of appeasement. Perhaps she could afford him time.

  “Nonsense!” Fanny said.

  Sawyer was taken aback by her ferocity, but Fanny assumed that soon enough the soldier might be making advances on her, as well. The threat was not beyond the realm of possibility. “Besides, Lady Vivian has an engagement tonight with — ,”

  “Yes, that’s quite alright, Fanny. I remember . . . ” Vivian replied, hoping to stop Fanny’s mouth. “About the expected company,” she added.

  Sawyer’s curiosity was piqued, but he assumed that some rich dignitary or overbearing aunt might be paying a call.

  “Well then. It’s time to go if we’re not to be late,” Fanny replied, tipping her nose up.

  “Yes, I suppose,” Vivian said, her heart sinking.

  “Well, it has been a pleasure,” Sawyer added, also perceiving the sadness.

  “Truly.”

  Fanny’s head darted back and forth between them as if at a tennis match. Sawyer wished to reach for Vivian’s hand and kiss it, but considering Fanny’s menacing proximity, it was impossible.

  Then lady fortune stepped in.

  “No!” Fanny hollered, seeing that her horse was chewing on what Fanny most certainly knew was poison oak. “You ignominious louse,” she scolded, striding towards the mare.

  A window of opportunity opened between Sawyer and Vivian, and it was electric. Sawyer reached out and grabbed Vivian’s beautiful hand, grasping it in his own and bringing it to his lips in no uncertain terms.

  “Until our next encounter,” Sawyer said. Then on cue, the kiss had released all the caged longings of the world and the fox darted out of its hole, St. John sprang to his feet in pursuit, and Sawyer jumped upon his horse like an acrobat.

  “Ha!” he yelled as his heels barreled into his horse’s sides. Within moments he was gone, and the hunt had resumed. It was not long before Sawyer found himself in old company.

  “Sawyer!” he heard a bear-like voice bellow. It was Sherbet, no doubt, and the rest of the men.

  “Ho there!” Sawyer cried.

  “Where the devil?” Sherbet called back, noting that the fox had been in Sawyer’s possession the entire time.

  Sawyer could not fathom how long he had been gone. He had fallen into one long, continuous dream. Was he still asleep? He must be, because the spirit of Lady Vivian Ravenswood was still palpable.

  Chapter Seven

  Vivian watched Sawyer’s retreat with a warm, soft smile. The breeze picked up again and gently nudged the curls that fell haphazardly around her face. He had been such a gentleman throughout their interaction. No doubt it was a sign of his good breeding. She had not inquired as to the nature of the soldier’s estate in Bedringham Court, but she imagined that it was most stately and refined, just like the soldier himself.

  There was perhaps no need for the man to go off to war. His family must have provided for him handsomely, and so it was a sign of his character that Sawyer chose to venture forth to the battlefield for reasons of personal motivation. How utterly brave and wonderful. Vivian watched the way in which he rode away; dashing and sportsmanlike.

  “I will light a candle tonight and pray that that fellow won’t be wagging his tongue and telling this person and the next about how you two conversed alone,” Fanny said, dragging her horse back to where Vivian stood. “The rumor mills would be churning up fresh fodder in little under a day, I perceive,” Fanny added, shaking her head.

  “I promise you, the fellow is a true gentleman, and would never conceive of such a thing,” Vivian reassured her chaperone.

  “Well, I’m going to light that candle nonetheless. Can you imagine what Lord Phillip would do if he heard? He might look to another lucky girl to be his bride.” It was a threat. That much was clear, but Vivian refused to be fazed. No, what Lord Phillip chose to do or not do was none of her concern. And if his dealings should not involve her, so much the better.

  “He is an honorable soldier, I can say that much with confidence,” Vivian went on, continuing to defend him.

  “He could be a lowly beggar for all you know!” Fanny fought back. “A handsome soldier’s uniform can hide all kinds of misdemeanors. Why, you could take a prisoner from the Tower of London, clothe him in a uniform, then think him a respectable man. It’s the most effective facade.”

  Vivian chose not to argue. She would not win in the end.

  “Come along, then. Supper beckons and I’ve worked up an appetite,” Fanny said.

  Come to think of it, Vivian had almost entirely forgotten that she was famished, as well. When she had arrived at the pond the misgivings about her future were altogether banished by the hankering for a good scone. Once Sawyer had arrived, the very notion of hunger floated away on a cloud. How remarkable that someone could make you forget about the basest human longings, and replace them with those of a different kind.

  The notion of a hot supper waiting at home was remarkably appealing - except for the price of the supper, which amounted to poor company. What a morning it had been. Beyond compare. Vivian was dizzy with happiness. She mounted Caelus as if climbing Pegasus, a creature not mortal but rather magical, primed and ready to transport her to fantastical locales.

  The journey home was swift. When Fanny was hungry, nothing got in her way. Vivian did hope that they might take their time, as the lush, dewy beauty of morning had ambled into a golden afternoon. The sky was bright and clear, and the sun’s rays brought clarity to everything. That startling afternoon would then take on another form, dissolving into a languid evening, dark and cool, blanketed in comfort and secrecy.

  As they approached the Stockwood Park, a carriage stood in front of the manse. How utterly annoying, Vivian thought to herself. Lord Phillip stays for days on end, leaves, then returns again at his will, as though the estate were his very own. She wondered why her father allowed such behavior. Were it her home, she would never endure it.

  “Self-involved,” Vivian said under her breath. The diagnosis gave her comfort. She had finally defined the nature of the beast.

  “Come along, then, and get yourself washed up,” Fanny said once they had reached the stables.

  Vivian had a mind to stay in her riding habit during supper so that she might smell of horses and grass. That would give Lord Phillip a strong message as to where her priorities lay. But no, she would have a bath and then be arrayed by Georgette. The bath would smell of lavender, and Vivian would sit there for the better part an hour and think of Sawyer.

  First, there was the necessary stroll down the creaky hall. Vivian walked softly, hoping in vain that her riding boots would not make a sound.

  “Is that you?” her father’s voice called from the study. Vivian slinked back. She had not escaped as she hoped.

  The image of her father sitting beside Lord Phillip was to be expected. They were no doubt discussing one of her father’s dusty tomes, Machiavelli’s The Prince, or the like, whilst puffing out their chests. Or puffing on cigars. Or just puffing in general.

  “It is I,” Vivian said, giving curtsy.

  “And how was the maiden voyage?” Lord Benedict asked in good spirits.

  “It was marvelous. I cannot thank you enough for the gift, father,” Vivian said.

  “And what else have you to say?” Lord Benedict asked, intimating the gentleman that sat beside him. Her father lifted his brow.

  “Good evening, Lord Phillip,” Vivian said a tad flatly.

  “Good evening. I trust that the afternoon was advantageous,” he added.

  “Most assuredly,” she replied.

  “Please be down in time for an early supper,” her father commanded, and Vivian frowned to herself. There went the bath. She was at a loss for time and would need to wash up quickly and be dressed to impress.

  “Very well then,” Vivian replied, and made haste up to her room. Fanny was close at her heels.

  “You did not smile once,” Fanny scolded. Vivian sank with the knowledge that
Fanny had been watching the entire time.

  “I did smile,” Vivian protested. She had felt it in her cheekbones.

  “Yes, but not with winning enthusiasm,” Fanny noted. “You’re filled with childish fantasies,” Fanny said, knowing the memory of Sawyer was still present in Vivian’s mind. “Be reminded of your duty,” Fanny added for good measure.

  “I’m well aware, and I shall prove it this evening.”

  “I have my doubts,” Fanny replied, pressing the issue further. With that, Vivian lost her temper and turned to Fanny in a fit.

  “I could just as well demand that my father hire a new chaperone!”

  “I think that you shall not,” Fanny replied, calling Vivian’s bluff. The two women stared one another down, but the quarrel could not be endured by either of them. Vivian backed off, becoming doe-eyed and penitent. Upon seeing the googly eyes, Fanny felt vindicated, and a rush of motherly love came over her. That’s a good girl, she thought to herself.

  Once Vivian was in her room without distraction, she heaved a sigh of relief and plopped upon her bed, staring up at the paisley canopy. It felt good to lie there in silence, finally able to go over in her mind all that had transpired that day; the attainment of Caelus, the jaunty ride through the hills, encountering the unforgettable Sawyer - oh, heavens! Would she ever see him again? She felt hopeful.

  By why hope? she had to wonder. Her future was laid before her like a well-organized plot. Yet there was something about the dashing soldier that emboldened her with the sense that anything could happen. Her fate was not written in stone.

  In light of a proper bath, Vivian would take what she humorously referred to as a French bath, which consisted of a warm towel wiped across one’s skin followed by a good dash of perfume. She had given up her former idea of coming down to supper smelling of horses. That night she would make an effort, if only to appease those that stood sentinel at the gates to her future.

  In the spirit of peace, Vivian chose a lovely blue cotton gown that fit her just so. The frock was light as air upon her skin, and exuded calm compliance. She looked at herself in the mirror of her vanity and was amazed by the results. The fresh morning and afternoon air had left a lovely color on her cheeks.