Ella seemed equally confused. She wrinkled up her nose and frowned. "Well, I know they have ribbon, but I don't believe they sell anything gold..."
How on earth was Mariah going to redirect this? She glanced at Ella for support but her sister merely blinked huge blue eyes in mute befuddlement. It seemed for the moment they were all doomed to uncomfortable silence again. Fortunately, Mr. Chadburne came to the rescue.
"How true that often the simplest adornment is the best," he said lightly. "That little grove of trees, for instance, could be in a painting by one of those new romantic artists."
"Oh, but I adore art," Ella said, nearly stumbling over her words on a subject that Mariah knew was very dear to her. "I brought my chalks along today and hope to make some sketches of the views on our outing."
Mr. Chadburne seemed every bit as eager to embrace this subject as Ella had been. "Brilliant idea, Miss Renford. I'm already impatient to see what you'll create for us. Do you always use chalk or do you dabble in watercolors, as well?"
"You are a lover of art, Mr. Chadburne?" Mariah asked, happy to capitalize on such a cheery topic at last.
"My mother is, actually," he replied. "She's forever forcing me to take her to galleries and such. I'm hardly an expert on the matter, but I will admit to having an appreciation for the talent and craft required for painting or sketching."
Ella agreed whole heartedly and at last it seemed as if the group might embark on actual conversation. It was not to be, however. The earl made the foolhardy mistake of asking Miss Vandenhoff for her thoughts on the subject.
"I think the time spent smearing paint could much better be put to other uses and the vast sums of money wasted to support such activities could surely go toward more productive efforts," the American replied in her usually snippy tones.
Mariah glared at the earl. How could he possibly expect her to help make the chit appear to advantage if he went about tossing questions at her? Clearly her contrary nature had to be treated much more carefully. She needed to be managed with extreme caution and certainly not given opportunity to rant over questions thrown at her willy-nilly.
Somehow Mariah simply had to find a subject that the girl could agree with. There must be something! Miss Vandenhoff could not possibly be negative about everything on the planet, could she?
"Well, I certainly admit that any time I might spend smearing paint could certainly be put to better use," Mariah said. "I fear I have no talent for it whatsoever, though I am glad that some people seem to find enjoyment from it. Mrs. Wakefield, for instance," she said, pointing at the large home they were just now passing by, "has quite a good eye for such things. Just a few months ago she had a portrait commissioned for her grandchildren. I should think that such a gift as that would be quite a good use of artistic talent."
Miss Vandenhoff appeared not to agree. "And Mrs. Wakefield lives in this house? It hardly seems grand enough for a family who can afford such luxuries."
"This is the rectory," Mariah explained. "Mr. Wakefield is our vicar, although he is getting on in years and now shares his duties with our new curate."
"And still he can pay for such things as portraits? What a vicar he must be. Does this new curate live in such imposing style as well?"
Clearly there was no pleasing the girl. "No, I'm happy to say the new curate lives alone in a very small house with no portraits at all. Is that as it should be?"
Miss Vandenhoff shrugged. "Pity your parish cannot care for him better."
Exasperating hussy! Mariah had to clench her fists as well as her teeth to keep from grabbing her guest and throttling her. How could the girl possibly think she was any sort of decent company? It was inconceivable that anyone—even an American—could be so boldly rude and unlikable.
As for Lord Dovington—well, he was equally exasperating. By heavens, when she glared at him in irate frustration, the man actually smiled at her. He seemed perfectly at ease, amused by her aggravation, even. What nerve, when he was the very one she suffered such appalling treatment for! She folded her arms over her chest and sank back into her seat.
Fine. If he could find such a distasteful exchange compelling, then she would happily let him. But she would not participate. If he was determined to marry himself to someone spouting off bitter retorts all day long, he was perfectly welcome to do so. He'd simply have to do it without any assistance from her.
"You seem to be of strong conviction, Miss Vandenhoff," he said, unphased by the reproach on the girl's face. "I am glad you feel emboldened to express your true feelings on things. Too often ladies are trained to keep silent on serious matters, but not you. How refreshing that you are exceptional in that way, wouldn't you say, Ned?"
"Oh, er, yes," his cousin replied quickly, after receiving a subtle elbow to his ribs. "Exceptional, to say the least."
For a moment it seemed Miss Vandenhoff wasn't sure how to take this odd sort of compliment. Mariah quite enjoyed seeing her at a loss, but soon her usual sourness returned and she curled her lip at the men.
"You are free to form your opinions of me, of course. I, however, do not trust in pleasing men, but God, which trieth our hearts."
Mariah hoped, for the girl's sake, God didn't spend too much time trying hers. He'd very likely find himself offended. Fortunately, though, the earl took Miss Vandenhoff's censure in stride.
"You seem to be fond of quoting scripture," he noted. "I take it you are rather devout?"
"I am, sir. I find the study of scripture to be a most rewarding application."
Mariah bit her tongue before stating the obvious. Whatever scripture Miss Vandenhoff must be studying, it certainly hadn't had much of an impact. Nothing Mariah could recall from Mr. Wakefield's readings mentioned sacred mandates for rudeness and affront. Perhaps the translation was different in America, though.
"It is an admirable undertaking, no doubt," his lordship said.
"Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed," Miss Vandenhoff replied.
Mariah cringed, but the earl surprised her by avoiding the temptation to ridicule or to shew himself completely unapproved. Apparently the man knew a bit of scripture himself.
"Don't forget, Miss Vandenhoff, we are also told that of making many books there is no end; and much study is a weariness of the flesh."
Miss Vandenhoff was duly impressed. "I see you are a bit of a scholar yourself, sir."
"I paid attention in school when it suited me," he said. "My cousin, however, is much more learned in such matters than I am. For a time he considered pursuing ordination, didn't you, Ned?"
At last they had hit on a subject that enthralled Miss Vandenhoff. Her eyes grew wide and she gazed at Mr. Chadburne.
"You, sir? Are you no longer considering the church, then?"
She seemed disappointed in that, but listened intently as Mr. Chadburne explained that other duties had arisen to interfere with his religious pursuits. When he mentioned that it would have been a good number of years before he could have counted on a living, he received a warning glance from the earl. Mariah did not let that go unnoticed.
Apparently the topic of Mr. Chadburne's clerical expectations was not to be discussed. Very likely that meant either this earl or his father had been forced to sell off any living possessed by the Dovington estate. If Mr. Chadburne had indeed completed his ordination, there would have been no where for him to go. Pity.
Where most grand families held vicarages to offer the younger sons, apparently this was just one more area where Dovington was lacking. Poor Mr. Chadburne could not look forward to support from his own family. Once again, the fact of Dovington's diminished condition threatened to give Miss Vandenhoff just one more reason to disregard him. Mariah would have to re-involve herself in this conversation to help rescue the man, drat it all.
But that notion was more easily dreamed than done. Miss Vandenhoff and Mr. Chadburne were so embroiled in their discussion of philosophical differences in points of doctrine th
at Mariah could not get a word in edgewise. Oh, but this was terrible! The heiress was pleasantly animated for the first time since her arrival, and her attentions were clearly pinned on Mr. Chadburne, not his desperately eligible cousin.
Finally the conversation hit a lull and Mariah was just about to pipe up with something—anything—to distract them, but his lordship apparently had the same idea. Instead of successfully regaining Miss Vandenhoff's attention for himself, though, he posed a question for Mariah.
"It seems this side of your village is not nearly so well kept as the other," he said, indicating the overgrown hedgerows and tumbled state of the walls lining the roadway as they left the village behind and were, once again, traveling through farm lands.
"These lands are someone else's, sir. On the other side of the village, the area we have already been through, those farmers are tenants of... well, they are yours, actually."
This truly seemed to surprise him. "Mine? You mean to say when your step-father bought The Grove he thought he was purchasing the farm lands as well?"
"He did, and he managed them very well all those years, if I do say."
"Indeed, they appear to be thriving, but... your step-father has been gone three full years now, has he not? Many of the improvements I noticed in those areas appear very recent? Who has been managing the tenants in his absence?"
"I have, of course. I told you that."
"I thought you meant you'd been managing the household," he explained. "I assumed you'd been overseeing the purchase of candles and mutton for the larder, that sort of thing."
"I have. And the well-being of tenants, and the upkeep of walls, and the condition of our lesser roadways, and new channels being dug for additional irrigation... I assumed you understood what was needed in the oversight of an estate."
"I do, of course. I just never knew... that is, my father's papers were in such disarray I did not realize this estate was as large as it apparently is. You are certain all these things you've told me are accurate?"
"You think I know less about my home than you do, sir? When I've lived here for twenty years and been primary overseer of it all for three?"
"No, I meant... I will clearly have to look into things."
"You do that. When you are content that everything is as I just told you, then you might perhaps let me know."
Drat. Had she really just informed him that Renford Hall was even more valuable than he'd known? She'd let her pride carry her away. He'd started her on the subject and she'd rambled on about her glorious achievements. Now he would not only be trying to evict her family, but very likely all their tenants, as well, in his eagerness to pillage his newfound property for momentary profit. Oh, but how foolish could she be?
So far this picnic was turning into quite the disaster, she was sorry to say. Miss Vandenhoff was being most unpleasant, the earl was practically rubbing his hands together and salivating with greed over his new information, and now Mr. Chadburne was quite contentedly drawing all of Miss Vandenhoff's attention for himself. If any part of this day could be worse, she didn't know what it might be.
Chapter 11
This picnic was going even better than planned. Dovington couldn't imagine what might be better: Miss Vandenhoff was enthralled by Ned's discourse, the weather was pleasant, the little Miss Renford was genial and, for the most part, silent, and now Miss Langley had just informed him he was wealthier than he thought. He'd had no idea the lands attached to The Grove were such promising properties. It remained to be seen exactly what profit could be got from any of these, but he had to admit on first glance Miss Langley appeared to have been a most excellent steward for these past years.
No wonder she was loathe to leave the place. Clearly her labors had not been done out of duty alone, but out of an honest appreciation and concern. He could almost feel remorse for having to put the girl out of her home.
Almost. Too many years of his own disappointments made it easy to ignore that of others. He would simply not allow himself to think on those lines. Miss Langley was young and attractive, and she'd shown herself more than capable. Clearly she could do well anywhere she landed. To assuage whatever guilt he might feel, he'd simply make sure she landed well.
And far enough away from him that he could forget ever having laid eyes on her.
Perhaps he ought to make certain Ned forgot about her, as well. It seemed Ned's conversation with Miss Vandenhoff had run its course and now Ned was easily swayed when Miss Langley distracted him with questions about whichever useless things seemed to pop into her head. For some reason, she suddenly wanted to know if Ned was a frequent visitor to the British Museum. Had he seen the Elgin Marbles? Was he familiar with the opera? Did he find the amusements at Vauxhall as delightful as the newspapers proclaimed? Was he there for the hot air balloon assent she'd read something about?
Ned seemed only too happy to give detailed responses to her questions and Dovington tried to catch the girl's eye to warn her off of him, but she was having none of it. In fact, her only response seemed to have been to pull him into their discussion, as well.
"Surely you have spent much time in London, sir," she asked as if she were truly interested. "What do you find the most interesting feature of the city?"
"Interesting? Well, I'd have to say—"
"St. Paul's, correct? Oh, but I've heard it's magnificent. To imagine a dome of such monumental proportions is truly amazing."
"Er, yes, I believe it is quite—"
Again she cut off his reply, which was not going to be about St. Paul's. Instead of merely interrupting him, though, now she included Miss Vanderhoff. In fact, it was as if she intentionally included the dubious miss and then passed her off deftly to Dovington.
"Surely even in America, Miss Vandenhoff, you've hear of our great cathedral?" she said pointedly. "Come, my lord, do tell her all about the wonders of St. Paul's."
With Miss Vandenhoff's skeptical eye on him now, there was little he could do but answer in the most genial way possible. "It is very large, for a church."
"So I've heard," Miss Vandenhoff commented. "Perhaps it would be better to use such a space to house the homeless and indigent, which I've heard London is quite full of."
Damn, this conversation was not going in the right direction. He looked to Miss Langley for help—she was the one who'd made a muck of things, after all—but she'd already turned her attentions back onto Ned and was busily engaging him in discussion with her sister, asking what places he might recommend their family visit at some point. There was nothing Dovington could do but try to unruffle Miss Vanderhoff's feathers.
"Is that what is done in America?" he asked in all sincerity. "Religious facilities are turned over to be used as workhouses for the poor?"
Apparently this was the wrong thing to ask. He wasn't even certain what she found so offensive in his question, but she spouted off more scripture, platitudes, and even lines from something she called a Constitution. The point, as best he could gather, was that she whole-heartedly disagreed with him and everything about him. What could be done to alter this opinion, he was afraid to ask.
Ned and Miss Langley were no help at all. They carried on very peacefully in their discussion of London's joys and amusements. Dovington wished them all to Hades and was about to say so out loud when Miss Langley finally took her attentions from Ned and called to their driver.
"Here we are! You can leave us out here, Jos." Now she smiled at the group in the carriage and waved her arms wide to indicated the sprawling countryside around them. "I thought this spot would suit our purposes perfectly. Isn't the view here irresistibly romantic?"
Their carriage pulled up to a halt and Dovington glanced around. Indeed, her estimation appeared accurate. This was an excellent spot for a picnic.
The grounds rolled away gently, sloping down to a picturesque stream bubbling and sparkling in the bright sun. Birds thrilled in the boughs above them, the grass grew lush and green, and wildflowers dotted the scene, casting fra
grance into the Spring-warmed breeze. It was the perfect spot, indeed, for picnickers, artists, or lovers. As all of them were here to picnic, and since Miss Renford had brought along her chalk to play artist for them today, that meant the only players their group lacked were the lovers. But not for long, he vowed to himself.
Ned and Miss Vandenhoff would play their roles here well; he'd make sure of it. In order for that to happen, though, Miss Langley would need to be distracted in some manner. He wasn't overly concerned about facilitating that, however. She was a female, wasn't she? Indeed she was; very much so. And this location truly was just as she'd said: irresistibly romantic.
The earl was being especially considerate as they set up and then settled in to enjoy the picnic. Mariah didn't want to be impressed, but she was. The man was being gracious and helpful and everything gentlemanly. He spoke respectfully to the servants and was carefully tending the ladies' needs, positioning blankets and cushions and taking care that no food or drink was spilled that might spoil anyone's clothing. It appeared that even Miss Vandenhoff could find no fault and she fell into silence as conversation centered on Ella and her chalks once again.
It seemed Mr. Chadburne did, indeed, have a great interest in art and he peppered Ella with questions about her efforts. Ella, of course, was all too happy to respond. Mariah supposed she ought to interrupt them and somehow turn focus back onto Miss Vandenhoff in such a way that the earl might engage her in conversation, but her past attempts at that had been met with such failure that she was happy, for now, to allow Mr. Chadburne and Ella to carry the discourse. Sometimes concession must be made for the sake of peace. Hopefully this time of pleasantry would allow for a bit of a cooling off that might put Miss Vandenhoff more in mind to look on the earl with more tolerant eyes.
He certainly was doing his part to make himself more tolerable, she had to admit. His expression was friendly and his occasional contributions to the conversation were amiable and engaging. Oh, and the way the breezed played with his dark hair while the sunlight positively glinted in his eyes... it might be easy to forget what an ogre he truly was. If Miss Vandenhoff did not find herself softening just a bit toward the man after this, then clearly there was no hope for the girl.
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