“As you wish, of course,” Selina replied, making an attempt to disguise her amusement. “If you will follow me, Mr. Rushton."
After he held the door for her, he loosened his cravat in a vain attempt to ease his gall. He was not in the habit of being laughed at by ladies of his acquaintance, and he found the experience not in the least elevating. It made no difference, either, that she pressed her lips together that way, when he could easily see the laughter in her eyes. Miss Easterly-Cummings was deserving of a first class set-down, and Mr. Rushton intended, at the earliest convenient moment, to deliver one which she would not forget. Unfortunately, the present was not a particularly propitious time to do so.
A young man of medium height, with sandy-colored hair and an open countenance, rose on their entry, breaking off his dialogue with Henry. He came forward with his hand outstretched to Selina. “My dear Miss Easterly-Cummings, it is a pleasure to see you again! Cathford made me promise to convey his regards when last he wrote, since he cannot be here for the hunting this year. You are looking splendid."
'Thank you, Lord John. I don't believe you know Mr. Rushton, though he tells me he is a friend of your brother's.
“I've heard him mention your name, sir. A pleasure. Are you at Oak Park, then? Cathford had intended to visit Sir Penrith, but found he could not tear himself away from Ashbourne Hall just now,” he said, with a decided grin.
“Yes, I hear Miss Donningsby and her family are visiting. Penrith was disappointed but he seems to have adjusted very well. Hunts four days out of seven,” Rushton informed him, “though it would probably be more if Cathford had come."
“A great trial for my brother, I assure you. Said he only gets out twice a week, if he's lucky. Miss Easterly-Cummings mentioned you were buying some land here to build a hunting-box. Did she tell you I have a finger in architecture these days? Not as acceptable to one's family as soldiering or divining, more's the pity, but I have always had the most pronounced interest, and my father don't mind, you know. Keeps me out of the gaming hells, he says, begging your pardon, Miss Easterly-Cummings. I should not like to impose on your friendship with my brother, but I have brought a few drawings of boxes I've done, if you should care to take a look at them. And perhaps you know that I did Sir Penrith's stables last year?"
Rushton studied the eager young man with rueful tolerance. Although Lord John bore a remarkable likeness to his older brother, there were distinct differences in their personalities. No one would have described Cathford as outgoing; though he had charming manners and was extraordinarily well-bred, there was a definite reserve about him. The contrast with this easygoing, forthright young man was not to the latter's disadvantage, however. Rushton found himself liking Lord John at the outset. “Penrith had not mentioned who designed the stables, but I was impressed with how well they blended with the other buildings. I should like very much to see your drawings."
“Perhaps Henry and I should excuse ourselves, Lord John, so that you and Mr. Rushton may speak more freely,” Selina suggested.
“No, no, that's not in the least necessary,” the young man protested.
Henry exclaimed, “But, Selina, I have the greatest desire to see the drawings!"
“If it is agreeable with Lord John and Mr. Rushton, I have no objection.” Selina could not doubt that Mr. Rushton would be relieved by her absence, and she walked to the door. “I hope you will take as long as you wish, Lord John. Perhaps you would wait on me in the library when you have finished."
There were always any number of matters to occupy Selina's time when she sat in the library, where she kept the record of estate expenditures and income, her own personal accounts and the household books. When her father had died, she had been left the ward of a distant relation, recently moved to Cornwall, who had no interest in overseeing the management of her inheritance, and she had been forced to assume the responsibility herself. The meek woman her guardian had insisted on thrusting on her had stayed, almost perpetually in her own room, until the day after Selina's twenty-first birthday, when she had precipitately departed, announcing that the manor was too damp for her comfort. Mrs. Morrow had been of no help in any of the matters which had occupied Selina's time; she had in fact been nicknamed “The Elusive Shadow” by the cousins long before her departure.
With several leather-bound ledgers resting in front of her, Selina attempted to concentrate her attention on bringing the books up to date, but her mind continually wandered. When she had erroneously entered a household expense under the Home Farm, she snapped the books shut and pushed them aside, allowing her gaze to fall on the bleak landscape outside. If she had not arranged to speak with Lord John about the estate cottages, she would have found some relief in a gallop across the fields.
Selina acknowledged to herself that Mr. Rushton had disconcerted her. Certainly he was handsome and had considerable address when he chose to use it, as he had the evening he had dined with her, but he had not the first idea how to cope with a woman in a business situation for all his social finesse. She had seen his type in Margate and Tunbridge Wells, and especially in Bath. Sophisticated men who dressed elegantly, flirted outrageously and kept a mistress on the side. Men who gambled recklessly and drove their carriages with the skill of a coachman. Men who rode to hounds and entered their prize race-horses at Newmarket. They could be surprisingly appealing men, as she well knew, but they were frivolous hedonists, when all was said and done. Of course, one might superficially describe Sir Penrith in the same way, but underneath Pen had a goodness which Selina respected. Pen would have understood about the contract, and not made such a fuss.
It was wrong of me, she thought restlessly as she drummed a pen on the desk, to presume on Mr. Rushton by bringing Lord John here without consulting him. But I do not think it was wrong, or even misguided, of me to have him sign the contract. And I was not stubborn about it, merely firm. He would have made me do the same were the situation reversed, and he knows it. An insult indeed! Well, he has what he wants now, and I shan't have to see him again, and it does not matter in the very least that he has misunderstood me.
When there was a summons at the door, Selina glared at it for a moment before calling, “Come in."
His face alight with glee, Lord John strode into the room. “Ah, you are an angel to have gone to this trouble for me, Miss Easterly-Cummings. Mr. Rushton says he will use me as his architect."
“Has he left?"
“Yes, Henry was showing him out."
“I see. Do sit down and tell me all about it, Lord John. I am so pleased for you."
Chapter 9
In an effort to restore his disposition, Rushton drove from Shalbrook to the small piece of land he had just purchased. The sun was making an attempt to break through the heavy clouds, and a beam of light escaped to shine down on the clearing he envisioned as the site for the house. With an unusual disregard for his gleaming Hessians, and his pair of chestnuts, he tied them to the rails and vaulted over onto the muddy ground and began to pace about the property. The cut-and-laid fences appeared to be in good order, though it occurred to him that he did not know whether they belonged to Lord Benedict or himself. He would have to ask Miss Easterly-Cummings about that. No, devil take her, he had no intention of asking her for so much as the time of day. If necessary he would have a surveyor come and mark the boundaries out for him, should the deed itself not be specific enough. He returned to the curricle to extract the deed from the pocket where he had placed it. A careful study of the wording indicated that the south and west fences were his, while the east and north apparently belonged to Lord Benedict.
The sound of pounding hooves attracted his attention and he raised his head to watch the approach of a solitary horseman, who reined in as he came abreast of the curricle. There was something vaguely familiar about the younger man, but Rushton could not say for certain that he was acquainted with him. Probably he had seen the fellow in London; all the dandies had come to look the same to him. Even the fellow's ri
ding coat was nipped in at the waist, and he wore it over bright yellow buckskins with matching yellow-topped black top boots.
“I say, you must be the gentleman Selina is selling the land to,” Lord Benedict cried as he slid from his mount. “Wretched girl! I've tried to buy it from her these last three years but she's as stubborn as a mule! Said she intended to keep it herself, and then look what she does. Did she really retain the right of first refusal if you sell it?"
“Most decidedly,” Rushton murmured.
“Hold on, I've seen you in London, ain't I? Selina didn't mention your name, just said you were a friend of Sir Penrith's."
“Gareth Rushton. And I assume you are Lord Benedict."
“Rushton! Of course! I've seen you around and about for years. We've never met.” He offered his hand, which was accepted with some surprise by Rushton, who could not help but be startled by the glaringly yellow gloves Benedict wore. “I was on my way to speak with Selina. Not concluded the deal yet, have you?"
“Yes, I own the land now."
“I will pay you double what you paid her. You can see that the vale belongs with my land. It was only her perversity which kept her from selling to me.” Benedict eyed his companion speculatively. “You are a man of property yourself, Rushton. Must understand how it is to have one little chunk cut out of the whole. A constant irritation, like an itch you can't reach. Stand atop a rise and wave your hand about: All that is my land ... except the little vale there which a stubborn chit owns and won't sell to me. I tell you what we could do! Selina said you wanted to build a hunting-box, and I have a very handy piece of land the other side of Barton, a little larger than this, don't you know? Perhaps fifty acres. We can exchange the two. Why not ride along with me and have a look at it? Repossessed it a year ago. Just an old farm. Easy enough to convert the farmhouse, or even tear it down. What do you say?"
“I am particularly attached to this piece of land, Lord Benedict, and you are forgetting Miss Easterly-Cummings’ right of first refusal."
“Pay no heed to that. Selina wouldn't go as high as I would for the land. Well, stands to rights she wouldn't pay more to get it back than she just got for selling it, now would she?"
Rushton regarded the young man coldly. “I have no intention of selling the vale. The location is ideal for a hunting-box, and I have already engaged an architect. I can understand your irritation at having a small piece cut out from the rest of your lands, but it has obviously been so for some years, and I would advise accustoming yourself to the state of affairs on a permanent basis."
“You might at least have a look at the farm,” Benedict grumbled. “Nothing wrong with it for a hunting-box. We could say you were paying more for it than you did for the vale, and everything would be right and tight. Selina don't matter. We could make it an outrageous price that even she would hesitate to match for some long-past grudge. Serve her right for selling it under my nose. You'd get more land with the farm, and it could be productive during part of the year,” he suggested persuasively.
“Thank you, no, Lord Benedict."
“Oh, very well,” the young man snapped as he swung himself onto his horse. “It's all her fault, anyway. When she does something obnoxious, you may change your mind, just to put her in her place. I shall be prepared to buy the land at any time, or exchange it for the farm, so you need only send me word.” He gave an impatient nod, swung his horse about and galloped off, leaving Rushton with a very disagreeable taste in his mouth. Perhaps there had been some point to Miss Easterly-Cummings’ insistence on the contract after all. Certainly Lord Benedict had no qualms about acting unscrupulously where she was concerned. Odd behavior, for a couple who had once been engaged. No, perhaps not, when one considered that they had not in the end allied themselves with one another. It would be fascinating, Rushton thought, to know the history of that romance.
Since his pair was prancing impatiently, Rushton returned the deed to the leather pocket in the curricle, and released the reins from the rails. Penrith would probably have returned from hunting by this time, and there were a number of matters Rushton intended to discuss with him. He could not stay on at Oak Park indefinitely, in spite of Pen's generous hospitality, and the Southwoods would be leaving for London in a few weeks, in any case. The best solution was to check out the accommodation at the local inn to see if he would be reasonably comfortable in a suite of rooms there for several months. The hunting season being near its conclusion, there would likely be rooms available, and decent stabling for his chestnuts and his hunters.
During the winter the village of Barton, serving the hunting community as it did, was prosperous. The Horse and Hound, set at the crossroads and opposite the green, was an ancient half-timbered hostelry which sprawled over a considerable area, its gables thrusting out in all directions, its leaded windows cheerfully distorting the view, and its chimney pots forever pouring billows of smoke into the gray afternoon sky. Rushton left his curricle and pair at the stables and entered through the old oak door with its brass fittings. Inside there was a buzz of activity, with laughter and voices issuing from the public rooms where welcome fires blazed on the hearths. The men grouped around were still in hunting coats, each with mug in hand trying to warm themselves while they recounted the day's runs.
“Did ‘e wish to see the landlord?” asked a smiling serving girl.
“If I might,” Rushton replied as he was accosted by an acquaintance who laughed, “You missed a spectacular day, Rushton. I had thought to see you in the field. Sir Penrith was there."
“A matter of business prevented me.” Rushton wondered momentarily if Miss Easterly-Cummings could not have arranged for a time to conclude the sale that did not conflict with a day's hunting, but dismissed the thought as unworthy of himself. He was allowing the young lady to assume unnecessary proportions in his mind. If she had given a thought to the hour she appointed, it was probably only for Mr. Thomas’ or Lord John's convenience.
“We had a run from Thorpe Trussels to Carr's Brigg, then to Scraptoft Spinneys, back over Life Hill and Adam's Gorse to Burrough Hill. Spanking pace the whole way; hardly lost sight of the fox the entire time. Never saw so many bullfinches and doubles, and, Lord, Assheton Smith took them all. Moreton's horse ran away with him, but he put a stop to that by covering the beast's eyes with his hands. Did the trick, I promise you. What a complete hand!"
Rushton smiled his approval, but changed the subject. “Are you staying here, Walters?"
“Yes, for another week at least."
“Find it comfortable, do you?"
“I've seldom stayed at a better inn in the country, but I thought you were at Oak Park."
“Oh, I am.” Rushton watched as a ruddy-faced, middle-aged man steamed out of the kitchen area and down the passage toward him. “If you will excuse me, Walters, I would have a word with the landlord."
“Certainly. Perhaps you'll join us later for a round."
“Perhaps."
When Rushton had explained his requirements to Mr. Evans, the innkeeper suggested a suite of rooms at the far end of the building that would be available shortly. “Much quieter there, sir; more like a private house. Has its own parlor, bedroom and a room for your valet. And no skimping on the service, mind. The bell rings in the kitchen as they all do, and I won't tolerate any lagging on the way from my staff. Harder to keep the food warm, of course, but we've a right handy cart and everything covered. Or there are the private parlors off the hall here, if you should prefer. The rooms are empty right now. Would you like to see them?"
“Yes. You understand that I would require them for some time, while I oversee the construction of a house down the Ashfordby Road."
Mr. Evans’ brow creased in a frown. “Had no idea there was any land down that way for sale. Mostly Shalbrook land and Lord Benedict's. Pretty area, though."
“Yes."
“You'll be meeting Miss Easterly-Cummings,” the innkeeper declared proudly, as though he were presenting the village treas
ure to Rushton. Fine young lady. Made me a loan when we had a fire in this wing; no one else would, though I have no idea why not,” he said indignantly. “Everyone knows the Horse and Hound is a flourishing hostelry. It was summertime, though, when business is not as brisk, but never mind. Miss Easterly-Cummings has a fine head for business and she knows that Joe Evans repays his debts. It's no small thanks to her that my children—all grown now, of course—have a village school for their own children. ‘Tweren't a school at all when mine was little. Closest one was in Quorn, and times were harder then. Here's the suite—all fresh and modern, as you can see. Completely rebuilt after that fire I mentioned. Miss Easterly-Cummings suggested putting in the water closet, and I had my doubts at the time. After all, we have a perfectly good privvy in the yard, and it means I have to charge a little more for the rooms, you understand. But it's paid for itself a dozen times over, upon my word! You'd never credit what a demand there is for the conveniences."
Rushton, who would have taken the rooms sight unseen had he known they possessed such luxury, resented the fact that Miss Easterly-Cummings had her finger in this pie as well. Could she not mind her own business? There was a note of sarcasm in his voice as he eyed the purple draperies and murmured, “Perhaps she suggested the decoration of the rooms as well."
“Oh, no, sir, not on your life. Why, she's a lady, she is. Wouldn't interfere in the running of the Horse and Hound. My good wife is the one with the eye, I may tell you. Mrs. Evans said to me, ‘Now with everything so spanking new, we should just see that the gentry has suitably rich draperies in that wing, Joe.’ And you can see she's done herself proud. Everyone thinks of royalty, they think of purple, don't you see? Very clever of her, I thought, and the daughter is ever so handy with a needle that it was no sooner said than done. Well, what do you say?"
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