A Country Gentleman

by Ann Barker

  ‘My uncle was disappointed when a certain lady left London,’ said Mr Hawkfield to Lavinia under his breath.

  ‘I am surprised that he noticed the loss of one young lady among so many,’ she replied, very conscious of Thurlby on the other side of her.

  Hawkfield laughed. ‘My uncle is well known for his excellent taste in the female sex,’ he replied.

  When he turned to speak to Isobel, who was on his other side, and slightly balked of her prey because Miss Wheatman was intent upon talking to the vicar about parish business, Thurlby said to Lavinia, ‘I believe I have already warned you not to have too much to do with Lord Riseholm. He is not a proper associate for young ladies.’

  A little annoyed by this proprietary attitude, Lavinia said provocatively, if not with perfect truth, ‘Nevertheless he is exceedingly amusing.’

  ‘One cannot spend one’s whole life being amused,’ he answered her.

  ‘No, but it would be agreeable to spend some of it thus,’ she responded spiritedly before turning back to Hawkfield. To Thurlby’s great annoyance, she then seemed to find a great deal to amuse her in the rake’s nephew’s conversation, so he turned to Miss Tasker.

  ‘I fear I have been somewhat remiss recently,’ he said in an apologetic tone. ‘I have neglected the school.’

  Miss Tasker smiled, her expression making her face look less plain. ‘Your mother has been more than kind,’ she replied. ‘What is more, I cannot tell you how grateful we have been for the gifts of pencils, paper, chalks and books from the Hall; and I know that the funds for those gifts have been granted by you. I would not call that neglect.’

  ‘Perhaps; but I have failed to look in on you in person. How are things going? Do you have plenty of pupils? Are the local people prepared to send them?’

  ‘We have over twenty children,’ she replied. ‘Their ages range from five to fifteen and they are mostly from the village. Some are from the outlying farms, but there are not as many as I could wish.’

  ‘Would you like me to mention the school to the farmers as I go round?’

  ‘I would be very grateful, my lord,’ answered Miss Tasker. ‘Part of the difficulty is that if someone is needed to bring a child, then that person is taken away from his own tasks.’

  ‘Maybe some kind of transport could be put in place to collect the children,’ the earl suggested. ‘One of my people could drive a wagon round, perhaps. Then no other person would miss his work.’

  ‘I would be obliged, my lord,’ she said gratefully.

  ‘I’ll look into it,’ he promised. ‘I hope that you don’t find that you are over-burdened. Do you teach them all? That must be difficult.’

  ‘The older ones help the younger ones,’ she replied.

  ‘Which is as it should be. Well, let me know whether you need anything more.’

  Miss Tasker then turned to speak to Mr Laver, leaving the earl free to turn his attention to Lavinia and raise a subject that had been a little on his mind.

  ‘Why did you not tell me that you had gone hunting for grasses after all?’ he asked her in a low tone. She hesitated. ‘You need not worry about sparing my feelings,’ he went on.

  ‘I was very annoyed that you had thought the worst of me, and decided that you might as well continue in error,’ she replied, looking straight at him.

  ‘Well that’s frank,’ observed the earl, picking up his wine glass.

  ‘You told me not to spare your feelings,’ she said. ‘I thought that you wanted me to be honest.’

  ‘I should have preferred it if you had been honest before.’

  She coloured. ‘I did not like it when you judged me with so little evidence.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you did. I shouldn’t have done so in your place. I was too hasty.’

  ‘Yes, you were,’ she agreed.

  ‘It’s a failing of mine, I fear. May we start again, do you think?’

  She said nothing, but merely nodded. ‘Was it terribly dull, collecting grasses?’ he asked her after a short pause.

  ‘Not as dull as I had expected,’ she told him.

  A trill of laughter betrayed the fact that Isobel was finding Mr Hawkfield very amusing; or, at any rate, that she wanted others to believe that to be the case. Perhaps, Lavinia wondered, she might transfer her interest to Mr Hawkfield. Or perhaps this was another ploy to attract the vicar’s notice.

  In fact it was Lord Thurlby who directed a long look at the young lady in question, but his comment to Lavinia would not have been particularly pleasing to Isobel. ‘Miss Macclesfield did not help you in your search for grasses, I take it.’

  ‘She … she suffers from hay fever,’ answered Lavinia hurriedly.

  ‘You are very charitable,’ he replied. ‘More charitable than she deserves, I suspect.’

  Before the party had broken up, Isobel was suggesting another expedition. ‘Did you not say, Miss Tasker, that there were ruins to be visited in the vicinity? Would it not be agreeable to form a party and explore them?’

  Miss Tasker confirmed that she had indeed made such a comment. ‘There is a castle perhaps a dozen miles the other side of Bourne – at Folkingham, I believe,’ she said.

  ‘There certainly is,’ Thurlby agreed. ‘It belonged to the barons of Folkingham before the line died out some two hundred years ago. The castle was left untended, those in need plundered it for stone and lead, and it soon fell into disrepair. But there is plenty to see. We could take a picnic. I’m sure that Mrs Campsey would oblige.’

  ‘Then let us go by all means,’ said Mr Hawkfield gaily. ‘I cannot wait to tell my uncle that I have been visiting ruins in company with a bevy of beauty.’ Isobel fluttered her eyelashes, hoping that the young man would mention her name when he did so. Lavinia inclined her head gracefully, and Miss Tasker glanced at the vicar and smiled slightly. Lord Thurlby pressed his lips together in a thin line.

  Care was taken to choose a day when the duties of both the vicar and of the schoolmistress would permit them to come. Lord Thurlby, of course, had duties too, but could arrange them to suit himself. ‘All we have to do now is to pray for a fine day,’ said Isobel. ‘But,’ she added, looking meltingly at the vicar, ‘I think that we may safely leave that to you.’

  He smiled politely in response, but did not say anything.

  Chapter Nine

  Isobel had enjoyed the outing to the Horseshoe Inn. As a child, she had been enchantingly pretty, and had learned at a very young age that her smiles, frowns and pouts could conjure precisely the response she wanted from the male species. A gathering such as the one that had taken place at the inn, therefore, had been very much to her taste. The admiration of Mr Hawkfield and Mr Laver had been open and very flattering. Lord Thurlby had been the perfect gentleman, dividing his attention very courteously between all those present. Nevertheless, Isobel had been able to detect his eyes fixed upon her in a very meaningful way on more than one occasion. Mr Ames, too, had not been unaware of her attractions. It had all been most satisfactory.

  To add to her enjoyment, the landlord had nodded to her very particularly as she had arrived, and she had concluded that there was a letter for her. As her party was preparing to leave, therefore, she slipped out of the room, murmuring something about pinning a hem. A waiter appeared and indicated that her letter was in the parlour, so seeing that the door of the room was open, she went in.

  As soon as she was inside, the door closed behind her, making her jump. ‘Looking for this?’ said Benjamin Twizzle, grinning. He was leaning negligently against the door, her letter swinging between his fingers.

  He had dropped in to the Horseshoe by chance and, on discovering that the large party being served in the dining room was hosted by Lord Thurlby, had decided to stay out of sight. The waiter whom he had bribed before had revealed that there was a letter for ‘Mrs Hedges’. Knowing that Isobel would want to claim it as soon as possible, he had handed over a few more coins, taken possession of the letter and laid his trap.

 
Isobel gave a little gasp. As she had told Lavinia, she had never expected to see Benjamin Twizzle again. He had kept very much to himself for the remainder of the journey to Stamford. His appearance now, and with her letter in his hand, was a very unwelcome surprise. ‘What are you doing?’ Isobel asked indignantly. ‘Hand over my letter at once.’

  ‘Your letter? I think not,’ said Mr Twizzle.

  ‘Of course it’s mine,’ she declared, reaching out for it as he dangled it before her, then lifted it out of reach.

  ‘Now who’s telling fibs?’ he said archly. ‘You see, this letter is directed to’ – he paused artistically to glance at the superscription – ‘to one Mrs Hedges, and I know for a fact that you are not Mrs Hedges, you are Miss Macclesfield.’

  Isobel took a deep breath. ‘The fact remains that for the purposes of collection, this letter is mine, even if it is directed to someone else,’ she said, desperately trying to retrieve the situation. ‘Anyway, it certainly is not yours.’

  ‘Mrs Hedges, I believe, is in the other room,’ Twizzle went on, almost as if she had not spoken. ‘I should be happy to renew my acquaintance with her. So why do I not take it to her immediately? It would be only courteous.’

  ‘No, it would not,’ said Isobel, a touch of desperation in her voice. She paused. It was not yet clear what this young man was up to, but whatever his purposes, she needed all the weapons in her armoury. ‘Mr Twizzle,’ she said with one of her most charming smiles, ‘I am sure that you have come upon that letter as a result of a misunderstanding. You extended to us the hand of friendship on the journey. Surely I can now presume upon that friendship and reclaim my letter?’

  ‘Now that’s much better,’ he replied. ‘If you are prepared to be accommodating, I am sure that we can come to some … arrangement.’

  She stared at him measuringly. ‘What do you want?’ she asked him. She was conscious that with every minute that passed by, she might be missed by the rest of her party.

  ‘Oh, nothing out of your power,’ he replied. ‘You are an heiress after all.’ He paused. ‘Shall we say a hundred?’

  Isobel gasped. ‘Where upon earth would I find that amount of money?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘That isn’t my problem, is it? Or shall we just take the letter into the other room? I’m sure that Lord Thurlby would be glad to pass this on to its rightful owner.’

  ‘No!’ she cried. Then she added, in calmer tones, ‘No, that would not do at all. I may be able to let you have twenty pounds.’ He laughed derisively. ‘It is of no use laughing,’ she went on. ‘I do not carry large sums of money on me, and I am limited in how much I can lay my hands on. I spent most of my allowance before I left London.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Twizzle protested.

  ‘You can believe what you like,’ Isobel replied haughtily, ‘but it is perfectly true. You can have twenty, and do not say that you will go through with the letter instead, because if you do that, you will get nothing at all.’

  For the first time he looked faintly annoyed. ‘Twenty, then. I heard your party planning a trip to Folkingham. Bring it when you go there. I’ll appear as if by chance.’

  ‘All right, but that will be the end of it. Now give me my letter.’

  He handed it over, but after she had gone he remained for a little while in thought. Twenty pounds would be sufficient to hold Nightshade off for a time; but for how long? He would just have to hope that Lord Riseholm wrote again very soon.

  The following day dawned bright and clear, and Lavinia, waking early, decided to make the most of the beautiful morning by strolling in the grounds before breakfast. She arrived downstairs to find Lilly lying sphinx-like in the hall. The dog got to her feet, yawning and stretching, first her forelegs, then her back legs. Then she wandered over to Lavinia, sniffing her skirts and wagging her tail gently, as if to say, ‘Well, you’re not the person I was hoping for, but you might do for an hour or so.’

  ‘Where is your master?’ Lavinia asked, bending to scratch behind the dog’s ears. She headed for the door, and soon found that Lilly intended to accompany her. She looked around doubtfully. She had no desire to spend the best part of the day playing hunt the greyhound across the earl’s acres, and wondered whether there was a lead that she could use. Fortunately, the butler came into the hall and she was able to ask him whether taking the dog out would be advisable.

  ‘Oh yes, miss,’ the man answered readily. ‘She’s very obedient and will come when you call. I’d take a couple of biscuits, though, just to make sure. Dogs always come for food.’

  Taking his advice to heart, Lavinia procured two biscuits, and went out into the garden with Lilly trotting along, first beside her, then lingering behind to investigate a particularly interesting smell, then dancing ahead, very light on her dainty feet.

  ‘I wonder, will you play?’ Lavinia said to the dog, after they had walked for a little time. ‘If I throw a stick, will you fetch it?’ Lilly looked at her in such an intelligent manner, tilting her head to one side, that Lavinia was convinced that the dog understood every word that she was saying.

  The girl looked around for a stick, then threw it. Lilly galloped after it with great enthusiasm, but as soon as it fell to the ground, she stood staring at it with her ears pricked, as if wondering what it might do next. Lavinia called her over and did the same thing again, but with exactly the same result.

  ‘You silly dog,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘I’m afraid she never will retrieve anything,’ said the earl apologetically, as he strode towards her across the grass. He was in his riding dress. ‘I saw you out here with Lilly as I rode home. May I walk with you for a little while?’ On catching sight of Thurlby, Lilly pranced towards him wagging a tail with the demeanour of a dog who had bade farewell to her master months, if not years, before, without the expectation of ever seeing him again.

  Lavinia signified her assent with a gesture. ‘The day was so beautiful that I thought I would enjoy the garden before breakfast. I hope you don’t mind that I brought Lilly. Grant said that I might.’

  ‘No, you’re very welcome,’ he answered. ‘You like dogs?’

  She nodded. ‘We had a dog when I was a girl – a golden retriever. He was very beautiful but not very clever, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Like my dog, in fact,’ smiled the earl.

  ‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ said Lavinia, with a conscience-stricken expression. ‘I called her silly.’

  ‘And so she is,’ answered the earl. Lilly had rolled over onto her back, and was now lying blissfully contented as her master scratched her tummy. ‘Very silly, and very beautiful. I seem to recall now that you had a dog. What happened to him?’

  ‘Oh, he got old, and died when I was fourteen,’ she answered. ‘I wasn’t even there. I was at school, my parents were abroad and Brandy was with them. I found it so hard to accept. Why do dogs age so much more quickly than people do?’

  Thurlby recalled that it could only have been a short time after that that she had lost her parents as well. ‘Poor little girl,’ he said, still crouching next to the dog. Their eyes met in sudden sympathy, and there was a faint frisson of feeling between them.

  He straightened and they walked on for a time in silence. ‘Tell me, why did you travel on the common stage?’ he asked her eventually, his tone even.

  ‘I had no money,’ she said simply. ‘Mr Stancross was so anxious to set out for Lyme that he forgot to leave me the wherewithal to hire a conveyance. I did not even have enough for the stage until I met Isobel.’ Deciding to say nothing about the other girl’s machinations, she simply concluded, ‘We pooled our resources and together we had enough to pay for us both to travel on the stage.’

  ‘And why the pseudonym?’

  ‘For discretion and propriety’s sake,’ she answered. ‘We thought that a widow would seem more respectable.’

  ‘Miss Macclesfield did not seem to be travelling under one,’ he observed.

  ‘She was never asked for
her name.’

  There was a brief silence. ‘Was there no one to whom you could turn?’ he asked. Then because he could not hold the words back, he added, ‘Lord Riseholm, for instance?’

  ‘I would never have been guilty of such impropriety as applying to a gentleman for money,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘You accepted flowers from him,’ Thurlby pointed out.

  She blushed. ‘Flowers are different,’ she answered, carefully avoiding giving him a direct answer. ‘You know very well that men send ladies flowers all the time.’

  ‘Not usually as far away from London as Stamford,’ the earl pointed out. ‘But let that pass. I accept your assurances that you would never have asked Riseholm for money. Was there no one else to whom you might apply for help?’

  She shook her head. ‘I had few acquaintances in town. Mrs Stancross was never strong and we lived very retired, you see.’ She paused for a moment before saying, ‘Perhaps you should know that she was not strong even before I went to live with them.’

  He coloured. ‘I beg your pardon. I was angry, but what I said was unforgivable.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ she answered. ‘I should not have hit you; or implied that you had been drinking.’

  He rubbed his cheek ruefully. ‘It was certainly a surprise,’ he admitted. ‘As for your suggestion, I found it rather amusing. It’s been some years since drink rendered me so out of control as to bruise myself on the furniture. But to return to your dilemma, why the deuce didn’t you think of applying to me? A simple note would have sufficed. I would have come and fetched you myself, and saved you all this trouble.’

  Lavinia thought of the week’s anxiety that she had endured when she had thought that she might have to travel on the carrier’s cart. She thought of her difficult interview with Mrs Wilbraham, her misgivings over Isobel’s attachment to Riseholm, and the awkward situation created by Benjamin Twizzle. She imagined instead being transported in safety and comfort in the earl’s chaise. Ill-mannered fellows would never come near, kept at bay by Thurlby’s powerful presence.