A Country Affair

by Patricia Wynn

  Richard did not miss the fact that she had made it sound as if Lucas, not he, had done the job. Did she fear the young man's jealousy? Or was she truly so intent upon selling him trees that she had no time to waste with explanations?

  In any event, her tone had no effect upon Mr. Fancible's sensibilities, for he ignored it entirely. “Fixed it, did he? Well, let's have a look."

  With a swinging movement, much like an elephant on parade, Richard imagined, Mr. Fancible lumbered towards the barn.

  Selina had had enough. Starting after him, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, she called out, “Romeo! I will not be accompanying you. Mr. Lint and I are conducting business."

  Romeo? At hearing his name, Richard suppressed a grin. The lad had certainly been well tagged. Many a Juliet would swoon over a man of his size and physique, not to mention his dark, curly hair and his well-featured countenance.

  Richard looked for signs of swooning in Selina and was rewarded by seeing none. He had hoped she would have better taste than to fall for this bumpkin. For it should not take anyone long to see that Romeo's virtues, though perhaps more than skin deep, certainly did not reach as far as his brain.

  The truth was, handsome or no, the man was an oaf and a bore.

  Selina turned back at that moment and must have noticed the amusement lurking in Richard's eyes, for she raised her chin in the air.

  “Mr. Fancible has known us all our lives and takes a kindly interest in our affairs. It is not at all unlike him to offer his services."

  “Services you had rather not accept?” Richard asked falling into step beside her as she marched back towards the trees. “I can see why you would rather not be obligated to such a clod. Would you like me to send him about his business?"

  He had spoken without thinking.

  He soon discovered his remarks had crossed the bounds when Selina whirled on him, her eyes flashing with indignation. “No, thank you, Mr. Lint. For you see, I shall quite likely marry that clod one day!"

  Chapter Five

  “Marry? Him?” The shock of incredulity hit Richard in the chest. The strength of his reaction embarrassed and amazed him, even as he spoke.

  He could see that he had startled Selina, too. She recoiled, with her eyes opened wide, and seemed to skip a breath.

  “Yes,” she said, recovering enough to toss her head. “And, pray, why does that notion astound you?"

  “Because—my dear girl, you have more breeding in your little finger than that farmer has in his entire enormous body."

  She flushed, and her lips gave a rueful twist. He was not sure whether his compliment had pleased or dismayed her.

  But he was wrong to be saying such things to a lady he hardly knew. Wrong to be taking a position on a personal matter which did not regard him at all.

  “You must pardon me,” he offered, with an awkward bow, “if my ill-considered remarks have offended you. They were not made with any intention to wound—with any intention at all, in fact. I was simply surprised ....” He let his words trail away, feeling inadequate to explain his violent reaction, though the notion of such a mesalliance still rankled him extremely.

  An oaf like that, making off with such a magnificent creature? The thought was inconceivable!

  Selina accepted his apology with a slight nod and continued their walk back to the orchard. From time to time along the way, she cast him a sideways glance from beneath her long, dark lashes.

  Feeling distinctly uncomfortable—almost de trop—Richard thought the time had finally come to disclose his true business at The Grange before his strange interest in the Payleys could become any deeper. It would be the height of absurdity for him to embroil himself in their affairs.

  He could not deny his desire to do so. It was growing stronger with every bit of evidence that showed him how poorly suited they were to fend for themselves. A stunning girl, who ought by all rights to be gracing the finest drawing rooms, consorting with pigs and suchlike? With no more help than a boy? Why, the whole situation was preposterous!

  Richard convinced himself, it was the gross injustice of it all that had captured his concern, when he knew he had no right to give into these feelings. What could he give the Payleys, after all, except a few instances of meagre assistance? He could offer them charity, but he doubted very much that Selina would accept it.

  Before he could grapple with this question any further, Selina spoke in a hesitant voice. “You must not berate yourself for speaking so plainly. I had no right to speak of Mr. Fancible as I did—"

  “Not at all—"

  “It is just that we have known each other from birth. And although my father would have disapproved the match—thinking the connection—” she stumbled—"not quite eligible for his family, perhaps—I cannot afford to be so nice.”

  She kept her gaze straight in front of her, her arms crossed as she walked. Though she took a deep breath, she did not slow her pace. “The truth is, Mr. Lint, that I will not be able to farm this place alone, once Augustus is gone."

  From the stiffness in her carriage, Richard could tell how much the admission had cost her, as well as the degree to which such a prospect distressed her.

  He muttered his acknowledgment, all the while protesting vehemently inside. Unable to contain his impatience entirely, he finally said, “I meant no disparagement of Mr. Fancible. I am sure he is a respectable man of many virtues. It was—forgive me—simply the disparity in class that caught me off guard. Are there no more eligible gentlemen in the vicinity?"

  He should have foreseen her answer, and to do her credit, it was uttered with a laugh. “If there are, sir, they do not spend their time in farmyards. Nor have I had occasion to move about in the first circles. Our means are much too constricted for that."

  “But surely—I mean, there must be fellows about the county. Gentlemen who take an interest in their estates, as I do?"

  Selina's lips quivered with amusement. “And who do not mind being towered over by a lady? You do them much too much credit, sir."

  Richard's stomach clenched at the implied criticism of her own attractions, no matter how lightly said. He hoped Selina had some inkling of how plentiful they were. Richard recalled his feeling the first time he had seen her—almost as if he had been kicked in the chest.

  “Any man with two eyes in his head would only have to glance at you once to be besotted,” he said, much more fervently than he'd intended.

  A sudden in-drawn breath seemed to render her speechless. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth and a dimple peeked from one rounded cheek, before she suppressed them both and turned away.

  Richard found himself looking with pleasure on the warm tone of her skin and the modest fall of her lashes. He was used to beautiful women. London was full of them—though not in Selina's hearty style. It must be the natural quality of her beauty that he found so exceptional, he decided.

  But his gaze lingered too long for his own good. Something stirred within him, and he had to cough while he forcibly turned his thoughts to cherry trees.

  The clop of a horse's hooves saved him from a moment rife with difficulties. Mr. Fancible caught up with them on the back of his steed.

  He tipped his hat again to Richard, then leaned down to speak to Selina. “That's a poor job Lucas did. Pig'll have that board down again in a wink."

  Though unintentional, his criticism caused Richard to bristle.

  For goodness sake! he muttered to himself. Just let this Romeo fellow try mending a pen with no sound boards around!

  Selina had squirmed guiltily at Romeo's inadvertent insult. Now, she glanced at Richard's face and seemed to find something in his expression to amuse her.

  “I daresay Lucas was not himself when he undertook the job,” she said to Romeo, with only a slight emphasis for Richard's sake. “He's been telling me for some time that he's not up to such strenuous work."

  Richard's good humor returned in the face of her teasing, but Romeo's next words erased it again.<
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  “Better let me see to such things."

  Selina stiffened.

  Her reaction, however, was not nearly as great as Richard's. He felt his spine go rigid, like a hot blade of steel that has suddenly been plunged into cold water. This Romeo fellow certainly knew how to get under a man's skin. But his irritating qualities could not be put down to vanity, as one might have expected from such a lout, for the clod seemed unaware of his own attractions.

  Richard itched to give him a setdown, but Selina was handling the situation in her own practiced way. “You are kind, Romeo, but we can manage quite well on our own, thank you.” She cut a sideways glance Richard's way, then said, quite unnecessarily he thought, “But we shall be sure to call upon you whenever our troubles warrant your help."

  Romeo seemed to be satisfied, although it was clear he was not ready to be dismissed. His gaze lingered on Selina's face—shyly and respectfully—long after she thanked him for riding over and bade him good day. After a firm repetition of her good-bye, he finally pointed his horse's nose in the opposite direction and plodded off.

  Richard felt a strange tension in his shoulders, as if he had readied for a challenge. Which was ludicrous, he thought. Breathing deeply, he eased the muscles in his neck.

  Augustus, whom neither one had seen since Nero's temper tantrum, came running up the drive. In his hand he waved a folded sheet of paper.

  If Richard had known that the boy had planned to go into the village, he would have lent him his horse. He was on the point of saying so, when Augustus called out, “It's from the Garter King of Arms!"

  His news smacked Richard soundly in the face. He had been sure the Garter would have notified the Payleys of his refusal of their claim long before his arrival. Otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be caught in such an awkward position. He was the last person who should be present when Selina read the Garter's letter.

  But there was nothing he could do to avoid it. Selina sprang for the missive and tore the seal before Richard could excuse himself.

  The change in her expression—from boundless hope, which made her eyes sparkle, to bottomless despair, which made her suddenly go pale—nearly tore his heart. In no little measure, he felt to blame for her sadness, even though his responsibility was nil. He wished he did not so keenly care now about her well-being. Or Augustus's, for the boy seemed to take the letter's contents as hard as his sister.

  “Distressing news?” Richard could not prevent himself from begging the opportunity to console them.

  “Yes ... I'm afraid so.” Selina's eyes met his. A thought, like a brief plea for sympathy, seemed to move behind them as she said, “We've been denied the use of our ancestor's coat of arms."

  “On what grounds?” Richard asked, feeling the veriest weasel for pretending, but, at last, on the verge of discovering what he had come to find out. And it was possible that he could do so now without divulging his real identity.

  The more he thought about it, the more he was coming to believe that things would be better left that way. He had far rather part from these people a stranger in harmony than let his duplicity add to their misery. He meant them no harm. In fact, he was prepared to buy tens—hundreds—a thousand trees if it would help.

  Selina's chin was already on the way up when she answered, “On the grounds that our proof of kinship is not substantial enough."

  “Did you think it was?” He had pushed for too much. Selina was obviously beginning to regret her openness.

  “Of course,” she said with a toss of her proud head. “I am quite certain of where I stand.” But her eyes avoided his as she said, in a lower voice, “If you will excuse me, I think I should prepare something for dinner—that is, if you would be willing to postpone our business until later?"

  Richard hurriedly assured her that he would be willing to wait, knowing she meant to hide her distress, though he wondered how much longer he should stay at The Grange. His feelings for the Payleys were growing far too complex. The quick embrace that Selina gave her brother in passing revealed too much for Richard's heart to take lightly. The bond of love between them. Their joint disappointment. Though it did not reveal the reason for their dismay.

  Intending to be of help to one of them, since he could not be to the other, Richard offered the boy his assistance in pruning the trees. Augustus accepted it with good grace, showing once again how well he had been raised. The proof of breeding, Richard knew, was not in one's family tree so much as in the gentility one displayed. And these Payleys had gentility in abundance—frustrated gentility, trodden down—but gentility nonetheless.

  He begged Augustus to tutor him in the way of pruning cherry trees, giving his future plans of an immense planting as reason. The two fetched tools from a drafty outbuilding, which could have stood a new roof, then set to their task. They worked side by side for many minutes, Augustus showing him just where to clip each trunk in the hope of saving the seedlings. The boy's manner of instruction was polite. Far too polite, as Richard found when Augustus's use of his false name flailed him again and again, reminding him of his own high-handed arrogance, his unwarranted temper on receiving the Garter's letter, and his continuing duplicity.

  “Listen here, young Squire,” Richard finally said in exasperation. “It seems to me that two gentlemen working side by side as equals should address each other with a little less formality. Why do you not call me Richard instead."

  “As you wish.” Augustus grinned and tossed the hair back out of his eyes. Being referred to as a gentleman and treated as such had obviously pleased him. “But if Selina rakes me over the coals for being too familiar, I hope you will be around to protest."

  “You have my word.” Richard paused, then added casually, “The same should go for her, however. If we three were not partners this morning when chasing down your pig, I do not know what we were."

  “Perhaps, more a matador with his banderilleros?"

  At the learned response, Richard raised his head in surprise. “Where did you hear of such things as bull fights?"

  “I've been reading a good deal.” Augustus shrugged, but Richard could see he was grossly understating the case. “I'm being tutored, you know, by the vicar."

  “No, I did not know,” Richard replied. “To what end?”

  To his dismay, chagrin swept Augustus's face.

  Thinking that his question might have suggested a lack of faith in the boy's abilities, Richard amended it hastily. “I am sure your ambitions are well-deserved. I only inquire as to their nature."

  The boy's eyes did not clear. A troubled frown settled on his face, as he bent over a nibbled tree with his pair of lopping shears.

  “I was hoping to go to Eton,” he said, “but I doubt I shall now."

  “And why is that?"

  The boy shrugged as if there were something he did not mean to divulge. Or, perhaps, he simply did not wish to confess that they lacked the money to pay for a boy's stay at Eton.

  Unless ... Richard thought he might have tumbled to the truth ... unless they found a patron. A wealthy kinsman perhaps. A Trevelyan.

  Was that the reason they had applied for his name? So Selina might approach him in Augustus's behalf?

  Seeking to discover their secret, sure it had something to do with their claim to his name, Richard asked, “Have you a sponsor?"

  Augustus shook his head. “No, I had been hoping to go as a King's Scholar."

  “A—” Richard caught himself before he could blurt out his shock. A King's Scholar, for heaven's sake! His stomach nearly revolted at the thought.

  Conditions for the Scholars were notorious. As pensioners, they received no breakfast or tea. Their only meal consisted of mutton and mashed potatoes, the potatoes dug in the season when they were too small to mash. The boys were so starved, in fact, they were known to prey upon each other, so that a small boy might subsist on bread and gravy alone.

  The rats in the crumbling building where they lived fared much better. In the inf
amous Long Chamber where the boys slept—without care or supervision—rats ran rampant. It was said that the boys spent the better part of their nights hunting the creatures and skinning them for sport. Their other amusements—gambling and fighting amongst themselves and drinking whatever was smuggled in—were hardly more suited to gentlemen's sons. Nevertheless, that is what they did and where they learned the rudiments of a certain life. Some of London's most confirmed gamblers and heaviest drinkers had started out as King's Scholars.

  Richard could not imagine how Augustus would survive in such a setting. Even though it might be the only way the boy could hope to get to Cambridge—Scholars were almost guaranteed a King's College Fellowship—he thought he must try to discourage him.

  Richard had laid down his shears, unable to work with these disturbing thoughts in mind. On top of these, he had begun to feel the result of yesterday's work. Every muscle in his back and shoulders ached. He urged the boy to take a rest by leaning against the fence. Then, when by its sway, it became apparent that this was not a good idea, they sat on the frozen grass instead.

  The cold seeped up through Richard's thighs. But this was as nothing compared to the chill in his heart at the thought of such a gentle boy being thrust into a situation hardly better than a beasts’ den.

  “Do you know much about Eton?” he finally asked.

  Augustus flushed and looked sideways at him, searchingly. “If you mean, do I know about a Scholar's life, the answer is yes, sir."

  “And yet you would go?”

  “I have no choice. That is the only way we can pay for my instruction. You might not realize it, but we sometimes have trouble making ends meet. That was why we were so uncommonly glad—”

  Augustus broke off, and Richard was charmed by the mixture of maturity and naiveté in his words.

  “—why you were so uncommonly glad I came to buy your trees?” When Augustus blushed and nodded, Richard said, “You must not worry about being frank. I had perceived your sister's eagerness and understood it. It is quite reasonable."