by Ann Barker
Some half-a-dozen brasses were set into the floor in the chancel, and the girls stood looking down at them. ‘Were they all people of this parish?’ Lavinia asked.
‘Yes indeed. This one’ – and here the vicar led them over to the one at the far end, depicting a gentleman in elaborate courtly robes of the medieval period – ‘was Sir Carey Scott, who was—’
‘One of the ancestors of the Earls of Thurlby,’ Lavinia put in.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ said the vicar. ‘Have you been in this church before, Miss Muir?’
‘Yes, but not for several years,’ she replied. She looked around and realized that she was standing next to the very pew where she had been sitting when Lord Thurlby had comforted her. She ran her hand over the carved end, before turning her attention once more to the brasses.
Isobel strolled from one brass to another, whilst Lavinia stood looking down at Sir Carey, trying to detect a likeness to the earl.
‘I can tell you a certain amount about these, but there is someone in the parish who knows far more than I do,’ Mr Ames told them. ‘I would be happy to introduce …’
As if on cue, the door of the church opened, and a lady came in. She paused for a moment to accustom herself to the change in light just as they had done, so they had the advantage of being able to observe her for a while before she could see them properly. She was a little older than Isobel and Lavinia, probably about twenty-four or five. Dressed neatly but plainly, and not in the height of fashion, she looked as if she might be a governess or a companion. Her gown was fawn and her bonnet a plain straw, tied with a brown ribbon. Her brown hair was neatly, even severely tied back, and her round face with its unremarkable nose could not have been described as anything other than plain. But as she came forward, she smiled sweetly. If she was a governess, then she would be a humane and gentle one.
‘Ah, Miss Tasker,’ said the vicar, a delighted smile on his face. ‘In a good hour! These young ladies are visitors to the area, and are interested in the brasses. I have told them all I can, but you are a much more knowledgeable authority than I. Miss Muir, Miss Macclesfield, allow me to present to you Miss Tasker, our esteemed village schoolmistress, and my betrothed.’
Eventually, after Miss Tasker had spoken informatively about the brasses for some time, the vicar said, ‘I think that we all deserve some refreshment. Ladies, do you have leisure to adjourn to the vicarage and join us for some lemonade and biscuits?’
Lavinia accepted on her and Isobel’s behalf, and they strolled along the little path, Isobel making sure that she was walking with the vicar, leaving Lavinia to bring up the rear with Miss Tasker.
‘For how long have you been engaged?’ Lavinia asked her.
‘For six months,’ the young woman replied, smiling. ‘We are to be married in the autumn.’
‘And will you be married here?’
‘Oh no, we will be married in a parish to the north of here, where my father is the rector,’ was the answer. ‘That was where we met, when Timothy was Father’s curate. I was appointed to the post of village schoolmistress here a year ago, and Timothy came to be the vicar here a few weeks later.’
The vicarage was a handsome brick-built house, with a fine, square hall and a charming drawing room at the back, decorated in shades of blue. Over the hearth was a portrait of a lady and gentleman, which looked to have been done quite recently. ‘Are they relatives of yours, Mr Ames?’ Lavinia asked him.
‘My uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Smilie,’ he answered. ‘They have always been very good to me.’
The lemonade proved to be excellent, as were the biscuits. ‘Caroline makes these,’ said the vicar, smiling at Miss Tasker. ‘You must take care not to make too many when we are married, my dear, or I shall become too fat for my cassock!’
‘I shall be careful only to make them once a week,’ Miss Tasker replied with mock severity.
Lavinia and Isobel left after a correct half-hour, but, to Lavinia’s surprise, Isobel expressed a desire to continue the friendship. ‘We do not want to be a bother to Lord Thurlby, especially when his mother is away,’ she said. ‘It would be delightful to spend some time with friends in the village.’
Miss Tasker’s plain little face lit up with pleasure. ‘That would be lovely!’ she said. ‘Simply lovely. There are lots of places where we can go, are there not, Timothy?’
‘There are indeed,’ he replied. ‘Are you fond of ruins, ladies?’
‘Ruins with hidden rooms and dark corners?’ asked Isobel with a saucy look at the vicar. ‘Oh yes, beyond anything.’
‘Then we shall have to see what we can do to arrange such a visit, will we not, my dear?’ he said to his betrothed.
‘What a waste! What a terrible waste!’ Isobel exclaimed, as she and Lavinia walked back to Thurlby Hall. ‘He’s handsome, he has a sense of humour, and he is obviously quite well-to-pass. And it is all to be thrown away on that plain little pudding!’
‘In that case, I cannot imagine why you want to pursue the acquaintance,’ Lavinia said frankly. ‘Miss Tasker is not at all the kind of person you normally befriend – although I have to say that I thought her quite agreeable – and as for the vicar, well, he may be as handsome as you say, but he is already spoken for.’ She glanced at her friend then said quite involuntarily, ‘Oh no.’
‘Now Lavinia, don’t spoil sport,’ said Isobel. ‘To think that he should be the nephew of Lord and Lady Smilie!’
‘Well, what of that?’
‘Only that I have met them in town. They have no children and are very comfortably off. I have actually heard them say that they intend to leave everything that they have to their nephew who is a parson. That makes his prospects very good indeed. In fact, now I come to think of it, he may be in line for the title as well.’
‘That may very well be so, but I do not see how that would benefit you,’ said Lavinia.
‘I have already said that he is quite wasted on her. As for her, she is obviously a born schoolmistress. No doubt she is wedded to her profession. I doubt if it would distress her at all if he were to turn from her to someone else. She would probably be delighted to have the excuse to remain with her pupils. Some people are not meant to be married.’
‘Isobel, you wouldn’t,’ said Lavinia reproachfully. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Miss Tasker’s plain but happy face.
‘Wouldn’t I just? Do say you’ll help me.’
‘Help you to break an engagement? By no means.’
‘You don’t have to do much. You’ve said yourself that you like Miss Tasker’s company. You can keep her amused while I steal away her fiancé.’
Lavinia stared at Isobel. She had not had many friends in her life. She had often envied young ladies whom she had seen walking along, their heads together, obviously sharing secrets. When Isobel had befriended her, she had enjoyed the feeling that she could join the ranks of those with close friends in whom they could confide.
She had always known that her friend enjoyed the power that her beauty seemed to enable her to exert over men. Five years ago, she had been able to regard Isobel’s ‘conquests’ as something of a joke. Now however she had discovered that this was a side of Isobel that she could neither like nor approve.
Isobel, seeing her friend’s shocked face said quickly, ‘I’m only teasing, silly. But a little flirtation will do no harm, surely? It can’t possibly be a love match. Just look at how dissimilar they are. Besides, it will be something with which to torment Riseholm. When I write to him, I shall tell him about the handsome vicar and tease him with the idea that he might be losing his looks.’
‘You are planning to write to Lord Riseholm!’ exclaimed Lavinia, shocked.
‘It is only courtesy to thank him for the flowers that he sent,’ said Isobel, her careless shrug concealing her annoyance with herself at the slip she had made. ‘Besides, all kinds of people write to one another every day. If it were Mr Walpole whom I was writing to, you would not turn a hair.’
Isobel’s face took on a serious expression. ‘No, that would never do,’ she replied.
‘I am so glad that you have thought better of it,’ Lavinia exclaimed thankfully. ‘I hate being on bad terms with Lord Thurlby, and am anxious to get back into his good graces.’
Isobel eyed her keenly but made no comment upon her words. ‘You may be quite easy,’ she said. ‘After all, I could hardly ask our host to frank letters from me to “his rakeship”, could I now?’
Lavinia smiled in relief and the subject was dropped; but Isobel had not abandoned the idea of communicating with Riseholm; only the notion of letting anyone else, even Lavinia, know what she was about. It was obviously vital to employ a way of writing to him which did not involve any of the inhabitants of Thurlby Hall. As they walked through the village, something that she saw gave her an idea as to how to go about this, but naturally she did not say anything to Lavinia.
They were now walking through a meadow, with the Hall in sight. That was not the only thing that they spotted, however. Walking a little way ahead of them, glasses on her nose, a book in one hand and a bunch of grasses in the other, was Miss Wheatman.
‘Oh Lord, it’s Maisy Daisy,’ whispered Isobel urgently. ‘Duck!’ They both crouched down, then crept through the long grass, giggling. Lavinia smiled at her friend, the recent contretemps forgotten.
‘Oh Timothy, I fear that you have turned her head,’ said Miss Tasker in a tone of mock reproach, as the two young ladies from Thurlby Hall disappeared from sight.
‘As long as you do not imagine that she has turned mine,’ the vicar replied, catching hold of his fiancée around the waist as soon as the visitors were safely out of sight. He glanced about him to make sure that his housekeeper was not within the immediate vicinity, and pressed a kiss upon Miss Tasker’s lips. ‘You are the only woman who has turned my head, my love.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ she answered frankly, smoothing his hair back from his brow.
To Rev’d Timothy Ames, the beauty of Caroline Tasker’s character had always made her a very acceptable helpmeet for a clergyman. He was well aware that a good many people were inclined to compare them, wondering why such a handsome man should be attracted to a woman whom many condemned as being rather plain. He blushed now when he remembered that there had been a time when he had been almost as superficial in his judgements of her as those who went upon appearance alone.
He had always known that as a country clergyman, it would be a very desirable thing to be married. Not long after his appointment as vicar, the bishop had spoken to him about that very matter, reminding him that a handsome clergyman would always be a source of temptation to single young ladies in his parish.
He had met Caroline when he had served as her father’s curate, and had always regarded her highly. Needing a wife as soon as possible, he had looked at Caroline, seen an ordinary looking woman, capable, practical, and sensible, and used to life in a country vicarage, and had decided that that would be sufficient for her to make him a conformable wife. He would need nothing more. Very properly, he had proposed, and had been accepted at once. Caroline was too down-to-earth to keep a man dangling if she had already made up her mind.
Then, one stormy night, a few weeks after the engagement had been announced, he had been on his way home from visiting a parishioner, and he had noticed that the schoolmistress’s house had appeared to be in darkness. A little concerned, for he could not think of any reason why she should be from home, he had knocked at the door to enquire whether all was well. She had answered his summons looking a little flustered and somewhat dishevelled. She had told him that she had fallen asleep in her chair earlier on. His knock had woken her up. Now, she needed to light the fire, and could not find a candle.
He had gone inside to help her. They had both been hunting for candles when a flash of lightning had lit up the sky. Caroline had given a little shriek and hurled herself into his arms. It was then that The Rev’d Timothy Ames had discovered that his sensible, down-to-earth fiancée was frightened of thunderstorms. When he had arrived, far from being tranquilly asleep, she had in fact been huddled on the sofa with her face under a cushion.
Very touched by this demonstration of weakness, Ames had said, ‘There, there, my dear. Don’t be alarmed. I think that I saw a candle when the last flash of lightning came. I’ll light that, then get the fire going and close the curtains.’
‘Don’t leave me,’ she had said urgently, clinging to him, her voice not quite steady.
‘I won’t,’ he had promised. Briefly he had hesitated, wondering how he could light the candle then the fire without letting go of her hand, for she was holding tightly onto him in her panic. Eventually, he had sighed, before sitting down on the sofa, and pulling her onto his knee. There they had remained, while the storm had continued its vigour unabated. She had tucked her head into his neck, and he had stroked her hair, murmuring soothingly.
After several more flashes of lightning and ominous rumbles of thunder, the storm had begun to die down, and she had lifted her head. ‘Thank you,’ she had whispered. He ought to have released her then; instead, he had drawn her against him and kissed her. It was the first time that he had kissed her on her mouth, and he had felt her quiver. Thinking that he had shocked, perhaps even disgusted her, he had made as if to draw away, saying ‘Forgive me’. Her response had been to cradle his head with her hands and kiss him in return. After that, the kissing had gone on for some considerable time. When eventually the vicar had left the schoolmistress’s cottage, it had been with a very different notion of what his marriage would be like; and a new excitement when he contemplated the idea of his wedding night!
Now, he smiled tenderly down at her. ‘It is because you are you,’ he answered, which reply Miss Tasker found so satisfactory that she was obliged to pull his head down so that they could kiss again.
Chapter Seven
At about the same time as Lavinia and Isobel had been making their way to the village, Lord Thurlby had arrived at his home. Making use of a team of fast horses, he had escorted his mother to see her dying friend and they had made good time on the road. They had arrived at the Jacklyn residence on the evening of the day when they had left Thurlby Hall and had found the house shrouded in gloom. The earl had been offered a bed for the night, but he did not know the family well, and had no wish to intrude at such a time. He had therefore bade his mother a fond farewell, and had set off immediately for home, making the most of some good moonlight, then staying the night at Colsterworth and setting off early the following day.
He did not want to leave Miss Wheatman alone with her charges for too long. Goodness only knew what they might be up to, or what gifts from Lord Riseholm might have arrived for Lavinia in his absence. He wished he did not feel as he imagined how his old headmaster at Eton must have felt when confronted with a wayward pupil.
He smiled at the idea of the young ladies spending the morning in collecting grasses. That would certainly teach them to behave themselves!
He rode round to the stables in his carriage, stopped to have a word with his stable staff, gave notice that he wanted to ride later, then strolled to the house and into the hall, where he encountered Miss Wheatman looking rather forlorn, a book in her hand.
‘Miss Wheatman,’ he said, ‘were you not intending to explore the meadows today?’
‘Why yes indeed,’ she replied. ‘It is such a fine day for it, as you see, but the young ladies have gone out without me.’
‘Really?’ he said, frowning. ‘I thought that a definite arrangement had been made.’
‘So did I,’ she agreed. ‘I waited for them at breakfast but they did not appear. I suppose I must have been mistaken. Perhaps they will come and find me later.’
‘I shall be sure t
o tell them to come and find you when I see them,’ he promised. A truly gallant man would offer to go and collect grasses in their place, he supposed. Clearly, he could not be very gallant. Salving his conscience with the thought that he had much estate business to be getting on with, he went thoughtfully to his study. Encountering his butler on the way, he paused briefly to make a discreet enquiry as to where his two young guests had consumed breakfast. The answer that he received made him a little tight-lipped as he opened his correspondence.
No doubt there were many of his milieu who would have thought it strange to make such a thing of breakfasting downstairs. To ask for breakfast in bed was not a grave solecism, certainly. At the beginning of a visit, however, such a deliberate disregard for the known customs of the household did not augur a very helpful attitude.
He recalled that he had not yet spoken his mind either with regard to their mode of travel on the day of their arrival, or concerning Lavinia’s masquerade. He would have more than one thing with which to tax them when they deigned to return. He had no intention of running off looking for them. No doubt there was nothing that two such bold young ladies would like better.
On their arrival back at Thurlby Hall, Isobel declared that she wanted to go to her room to lie down. ‘All those tedious church brasses have given me a headache,’ she said.
She did not sound very ill, and Lavinia wondered whether she was making an excuse to be alone so that she could think about Lord Riseholm. Undesirable though this might be, it would probably be preferable to making plans for the seduction of the vicar.
It was perhaps just as well that Lavinia could not see what her friend was up to, for she would have discovered her speculations to be disturbingly accurate.
Isobel had no intention of allowing Lord Riseholm to forget her whilst she was out of London. He should be made to remember how desirable she was and, if possible, he should hear of her triumphs with other members of his sex. Timothy Ames would no doubt soon fall victim to her charms, whilst Lord Thurlby, though a tougher nut to crack, could probably be coaxed out of his ill humour. Riseholm would not know if she exaggerated her conquests a little.