by Agnes Forest
For Fanny’s part, she was in remarkable good spirits and hadn’t a clue who Sawyer was. In fact, she was rather pleased that the pair were sitting so far apart.
“I do apologize that I have not a thing to give you, M’Lord,” Fanny said to Sawyer.
“It’s alright. I’m in need of nothing,” Sawyer replied, his eyes turning towards Vivian. She blushed with the knowledge of what Sawyer was implying.
Thinking that she was in the company of a rather distinguished gentleman, Fanny leaned in to confide in him.
“You’re doing me a great service this evening, as while you’re sitting here, no lowly infantryman can storm in,” Fanny said with a laugh. She perceived that she was being deliciously funny.
Sawyer looked towards Vivian, who appeared mortified.
“Yes, rest assured,” he said to Fanny. “So long as I sit here, no abominable louse shall take my place.”
“That’s a good boy,” Fanny said, patting Sawyer on the shoulder.
Good heavens, but those shoulders, Fanny thought to herself. Oh, to be young again.
Fanny walked off to procure more punch, confident that the evening was going swimmingly.
“Let me apologize for my chaperone,” Vivian said.
“There is no need. Her words were not the most unkind that I have ever heard.”
“How deplorable.”
“Don’t pay it another thought.” Sawyer’s gaze was warm and gentle. They examined each other briefly. To look for too long would be scandalous, and they turned towards the dance floor.
Vivian had to consider her good fortune that Lord Phillip was such a bore. Nothing would tear him from the top floor of Almack’s, so long as the opportunity for advancement in British society remained. Thus, there was no threat of Lord Phillip spying her in Sawyer’s company. And should he do so, Vivian would hold her head high. She was no one’s property.
“Might I have the next dance?” Sawyer asked, standing to full height and putting out his hand.
She reached out and grasped it, and Sawyer pulled her to her feet. Vivian didn’t know what to expect. Not every soldier was as masterful a dancer as he was a fighter. Vivian decided that if Sawyer wasn’t a skillful dancer that she would turn a blind eye. Surely, there was enough that he had to recommend himself without needing to excel at the quadrille.
The music began and - to her amazement - Sawyer’s movements were fluid and well-practiced. His grace and elegance showed through, and Vivian was delighted to see it.
For Sawyer’s part, he was not surprised in the least to see that Vivian was one of the most charming and alluring dancers in the hall. Watching Vivian move was an exercise in delight and longing combined. There was a brightness to her step, and it illuminated the entire room. He saw another gentleman turn from his partner to regard Vivian in motion, and Sawyer wished to pull out his sword in response.
“You’re a capital dancer,” Vivian managed to say. Despite the continuous movement, there was no sign of her being winded.
“I must admit that it has been some time,” Sawyer replied.
“You must have been practicing on the battlefield,” Vivian said humorously.
“Dancing?” Sawyer asked.
“Indeed.”
“Can you imagine; all those soldiers joining together for the quadrille?”
“I can, actually,” Vivian replied.
Perhaps the world would be a better place if soldiers danced instead of fought. It was something to consider.
“You must know all the dances. You’re so skilled,” Vivian said with gaiety in her voice.
“Only a few,” Sawyer replied.
In truth, Sawyer’s adoptive parents made sure that he was skilled in all the arts of society, including dancing. He never cared for it, but still excelled.
Vivian was having more fun than she had had in a long time. Were all her days to begin with a ride on Caelus and end with a dance with Sawyer, then she should die contented.
On the sidelines, Fanny assumed her normal posture, falling asleep in a chair. Occasionally she would open her eyes to see the young couple dancing and not know what to make of it. She was disoriented. The effect of the punch was wearing off, and Fanny wondered when it might be time to return to South Downs.
Lord Phillip had yet to show his face. In fact, business at Almack’s was booming to the point where he might later find himself at the Golden Pineapple, and after that, at an expensive London Inn for the night.
The dance concluded and the assembly of lords and ladies applauded and cheered. Another would begin immediately, but Sawyer craved more.
He spotted Fanny, entirely asleep in her chair, an empty goblet of punch by her side. Sawyer looked to the window where the storm had concluded and the black sky of night was dotted with a few diamond-like stars.
“Would you care for fresh air?” Sawyer asked.
“That sounds marvelous,” Vivian replied.
The small veranda was usually packed with guests, but seeing as the storm had just passed, it left the area clean and clear.
“Are you chilled?” Sawyer asked.
“No, it’s rather refreshing,” Vivian said, knowing full well that she had checked her Spencer at the coat room upon arrival. She was not willing to go inside to retrieve it. Their time together would brief enough.
They walked to the stone bannister and leaned upon it, gazing out towards the horizon. Lampposts burned bright, and carriages were heard traversing cobblestone streets.
“Do you enjoy coming to town?” Vivian asked.
“It has its pleasures, I suppose,” Sawyer replied. “But I much prefer the country.”
“I agree. There have been only a few instances in my life where I have preferred it here.”
Vivian knew in her heart that that very moment was one of them.
“I’ll never forget returning from overseas. The feeling of stepping on British soil again was remarkable. Sailing down the Thames and entering the bustling world of London was unforgettable. That was the only time where this city felt like home.”
Vivian watched Sawyer as he spoke. She found his general manner to be comforting. The way that his lips moved when he spoke, the mystery in his eye, the deep tone of his voice. She could listen to him speak all night long.
“Have you always lived in Bedringham Court?” Vivian asked.
Sawyer considered his response. How much would he be able to say? He wished to tell her all.
“I was raised in the Cotswolds,” Sawyer replied, which was the truth.
“How charming,” Vivian replied.
He wished to tell her of his adoptive parents, the wealth that they had left him, and the original family that abandoned him. But he became anxious and held his tongue,
Sawyer knew not why he became so bold, but he assumed that it had something to do with the image of Vivian standing there, a light dew forming on her skin from the stormy air, back dropped by stars.
“Lady Vivian, I must be earnest with you,” Sawyer began. Vivian saw mischief in his eye.
“Please do,” she replied.
“It is my intention to court you,” Sawyer said. He feared that his statement was too bold, but he was speaking with sincerity.
“Oh,” Vivian replied. She was at a loss for words and her heart was pounding.
“I apologize if I have spoken too plainly.”
“You need not apologize.”
“Then you are amenable to my course of action?” Sawyer asked, desperately wanting to hear the word yes.
Lady Vivian wanted to say yes, more than a hundred times over, but one glance back into the dance hall prevented it. She saw Fanny through the window, awake and looking about the room to locate her young charge. Vivian boldly grabbed Sawyer’s hand and pulled him towards the door.
“I promise to answer you soon,” she said, desperate to not be discovered alone with him in that manner. The repercussions of their first clandestine encounter had ruined her entire week.
; Sawyer felt Vivian’s hand in his own, and he grasped it more tightly, signaling to the lady that he should never want to let go.
Vivian’s timing was ideal, for she pulled Sawyer back into the hall before Fanny could catch them standing outside.
“There you are then,” Fanny said, approaching with a quizzical look in her eye.
“Yes, we’re exhausted from the dance,” Vivian replied innocently.
“We’d best be getting home, too. We’ve stayed far too long. Where is Lord Phillip?” she inquired.
“I have not seen him the entire evening,” Vivian replied. She felt Sawyer’s gaze upon her. It filled her with dread to think that she might have to explain Lord Phillip’s presence, but little did she know that he was aware of the whole story.
“Well, come along then,” Fanny said, determined to leave at once.
Vivian turned to Sawyer, desperately wishing to speak to him in private, but knowing that Fanny would stand between them with dogged determination.
“M’lord,” she said, not wishing to use his name, lest Fanny should realize that she spent the evening in the company of Mr. So and So. “Should you wish to pay a call, you would be most welcome at Stockwood Park.”
“That is most kind of you,” Sawyer replied.
Fanny eyed all this with suspicion, but she did not forget what she had imparted to Vivian earlier. Any gentleman of means was allowed to pay a call, so long as he wasn’t a soldier.
“Come along, then,” Fanny said, becoming increasingly eager to return to South Downs. She turned to go.
“Very well,” Vivian replied, and returned her gaze to Sawyer. “My father, Lord Benedict, should be most enthusiastic to make your acquaintance,” she added.
“I look forward to paying a call,” Sawyer replied.
Vivian departed, but within a few paces of her retreat she turned back and met Sawyer’s eyes one last time. He stood amidst a throng of indistinguishable faces. The image of it left goosebumps on her skin.
Sawyer stood there, watching her every move until Lady Vivian was out of sight. The evening had been utter perfection, and it filled him with sadness that it was coming to an end. That was the melancholy of love. He perceived it deeply. Only in the acquisition of what one loved was there the guarantee that it could endure forever. Until then, it was the constant thriving to attain the thing that one’s heart clamored for.
Sod it, man. You’re becoming soft, Sawyer thought.
“Your boldness earned me a bit of money this evening,” Sawyer heard Calvin’s voice say. He turned to find his dark and stormy friend standing behind him.
“And why is that?” Sawyer replied, still in a dream-like state.
“Gambling,” Calvin replied.
“Do tell.”
“When you were seated with Lady Vivian, I put my money on the fact that you would win a dance. The gentleman beside me bet that it would not be so. Once the dance ensued, I was twenty pounds richer,” Calvin said with pride.
“Soon Almack’s will be hiring a croupier,” Sawyer replied, still looking off to where Vivian had departed.
“You’re the talk of the club, I dare say,” Calvin went on. “Although that’s nothing to boast of.”
“I made my intentions known,” Sawyer shared.
Calvin looked at his friend like he had prophesied doomsday.
“Are you out of your mind?” Calvin asked, knowing it to be an unlikely match.
“I fear that I might be.”
“This calls for a drink,” Calvin said, leading Sawyer to the door.
“In celebration?” Sawyer asked.
“In commiseration. You’re attending your own funeral,” Calvin explained.
Within a few paces of Almack’s, the Golden Pineapple gleamed with light. The post-storm air turned crisp and cold, and Sawyer momentarily feared that Vivian might catch a chill on her carriage ride home. He bemoaned the hour. It was considerably late and his carriage ride home was still far off. Sawyer would be groggy on the Thursday morning hunt.
“Just one drink,” Calvin said, sensing Sawyer’s weariness. But despite the hour, Sawyer was alive with energy and life.
The interior of the Golden Pineapple was more lively than Almack’s. The majority of the attendants were gentlemen, but there were a few ladies of the night, as well.
There were two seats left at the bar which was thronging with activity. It was tremendous good luck, considering that the Golden Pineapple was the most popular public house in London.
“Since you’re twenty pounds richer, thanks to me, you’re paying for my drink,” Sawyer said, situating himself on his stool.
“It would be my pleasure,” Calvin said.
Ale was poured and the men toasted one another.
Where Almack’s felt like a dream, the Golden Pineapple felt like a return to reality.
“It’s impossible,” Calvin said, reading Sawyer’s mind.
“Everything in life is impossible, until it is accomplished,” Sawyer replied.
“How profound,” Calvin said with a wry smile. “I suppose that you will need that determination from here on out.”
“I’ll need far more than determination,” Sawyer said in a daze.
“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Calvin mused. “Wealthy socialite practically engaged to a rich man with connections, entirely unaware of her love’s true identity. This is how all good tragedies begin.”
Sawyer wished he had not told Calvin about any of it. He was making the situation sound as impossible as it really was.
“There he is,” they heard a voice say, and both men turned to find Christian Sherbet towering over them. “Are you toasting to your victory?” Sherbet asked.
“The battle is yet to be won,” Sawyer replied.
“I have never been filled with so much pride,” Sherbet said, raising his glass of ale in the air.
“Sherbet, this is Calvin Cain,” Sawyer said by way of introduction.
“Good evening, old chap,” Sherbet said, slapping Calvin on the back.
The blow was as painful as usual, but Calvin showed no sign of discomfort.
“Please don’t do that again,” Calvin said coldly.
Sherbet eyed Calvin with suspicion, but carried on with his banter nonetheless.
“It’s all anyone can talk of. Lieutenant Sawyer Cook dancing with the newly outed Lady Vivian Ravenswood. I saw it with my own two eyes.”
“All anyone can talk of? Such nonsense,” Sawyer replied. Truly, it was a marvel that tongues were wagging so quickly. He had just departed from Vivian’s company, and all the while that they were together, they were being watched. Sawyer felt claustrophobic.
“It’s the nature of the beast,” Sherbet went on. “Did you show her your commission?” Sherbet asked.
“I did not present her with the document, no.”
“That was where you misstepped,” Sherbet replied.
Calvin eyed Sherbet with a mix of scorn and amazement. Where did Sawyer, a man that he respected, pick up such a friend?
“I shall pay a call to Stockwood Park this week, and I promise to have the document in hand,” Sawyer said humorously.
“I’m coming with you,” Sherbet replied.
“To pay a call?” Sawyer asked.
“Yes, I’ll be by your side.” Sherbet was not joking in the least.
“What good will that do?” Sawyer asked in fascination.
Calvin wondered if he would ever return again to the Golden Pineapple in light of present company. He wanted Sawyer to himself.
“I will speak to her father,” Sherbet said, planning it all out in his imagination.
“Most remarkable. Then I won’t have to do it.”
“I shall threaten him!” Sherbet said with gusto.
“Do you think that it will work?”
“I think it’s the only way.”
Sawyer became contemplative. Sherbet was bombastic, but he had a point. The odds were so stacked against him that maybe the
only way to win the hand of Lady Vivian was to demand it at gunpoint.
No, Sawyer was slowly losing his sanity. It was the state of wonder that Lady Vivian had left him in, and the presence of Christian Sherbet was not aiding the matter.
“Gentlemen, I must be off,” Sawyer said, swigging the remainder of his ale and standing.
“You’re not leaving me?” Calvin asked.
“I am,” Sawyer replied.
“We’ll discuss this matter tomorrow, with the other men. Perhaps the whole brigade can storm Lady Vivian’s estate,” Sherbet said, it was the best idea yet.
“I greatly anticipate that discussion,” Sawyer replied, and departed.
“And then there were two,” Sherbet said, plopping onto Sawyer’s vacant stool.
“God help me,” Calvin replied.
Chapter Thirteen
Vivian placed her book in her lap and looked at the hedge maze. It was so mischievous, that maze. Vivian had to prevent herself from getting up and running inside. It would be childish to do so, and Vivian had decided that afternoon that she was going to be adult and remain on her stone bench, reading her book of poetry and watching the vegetables grow in the garden. It was also a better spot for Sawyer to discover her.
For all of Lord Benedict’s faults, Vivian had to admit that his choice to build the garden and maze was inspired. She had never seen anything like the grounds of the Stockwood Park, and Vivian had seen a few other wonderful estates. Such was the life of a wealthy daughter that you were always being carted around from manse to manse whilst your father showed you off.
Vivian didn’t mind this so much, as she loved looking at all the beautiful ladies in their colorful gowns. That afternoon, she herself was wearing what she lovingly referred to as her ‘house dress,’ which consisted of the finest light cotton fitted to perfection, and in peach!
The choice of peach was a bit of an homage to the peaches that were ripe in the garden.
It was a Saturday, and a number of days had passed since she encountered Sawyer at Almack’s. She would never be able to forget his words that night; how he intended to court her in no uncertain terms, and how Vivian had mentioned that he might pay a call. As of yet, he had not done so, but Vivian reasoned that he might think it too forward to arrive within mere days of her mentioning it. Perhaps he was waiting till the weekend? Whatever it was, Vivian would not budge.