part0012

“Out here on the terrace!” called Miss Greyson, closing the book in her lap over her index finger. “I’ve been sitting here enjoying the mid-afternoon sunshine,” she explained, summoning up a smile for the Brewster girls when they appeared seconds later at the long doors of the family parlour. Both glowing brunettes were attired in summery shades of blue today, and they made a charming picture framed in the doorway for a brief moment before joining their preceptress on the stone-paved terrace.

The sisters chorused an enthusiastic assent that Miss Greyson found mildly surprising, at least on the part of Juliet, who generally did not trouble to conceal from her companion her views on the lack of entertainment to be found in a visit with the quiet Penrose girls. She was not left in the dark as to the reason for this unusual enthusiasm, for Juliet plunged at once into a description of plans for a picnic party on the grounds of a girls’ seminary that had been famous for its gardens back in the past century.

At that time, the property had belonged to a gentleman whose passion for garden making on a grand scale had, over a period of thirty years, reduced a considerable fortune to a mere competence. His only child having predeceased him, he had willed his estate to a distant relative, but since the remaining money was tied up in a scheme to perpetuate the gardens, the disgruntled heir had promptly disposed of the burden by donating the property to the trustees of the seminary. The gardens were still acclaimed as a highlight of any tour of stately homes in the district. Juliet explained that Mr. Penrose had a close friend on the board of trustees and was thus able to secure permission for the proposed outing later in the week.

When the governess inquired as to the size of the party, she realized that some at least of Juliet’s satisfaction was due to the inclusion of all the young people from the Manor, as well as those in the Brewster and Penrose households. Being acquainted at first-hand with the resourcefulness of her charge, she had not the slightest doubt that Juliet would contrive to spend some time wandering about the extensive gardens with Lord Hampton, away from her companion’s watchful eye. But since Lord and Lady Teasdale would be present to chaperon the party, she could not very well make any demur, especially as Mrs. Penrose had seen fit to allow Emily and Alice to join the party. She noted the rather challenging glint in Juliet’s eye but merely remarked mildly that she would have enjoyed a tour of the famous gardens herself and was persuaded everyone would have a marvellous time if the pleasant weather held.

“What can you mean, Livvy?” Juliet’s voice was sharp. “The plans did not include children, and there is no need to drag Aggie with us on an eight-mile ride when Bella and Lord Teasdale are coming. Mrs. Penrose said that was perfectly adequate chaperonage.”

“Yes, I know that was the original plan,” Olivia explained earnestly, “but later, when Mr. Kirkland called and Mrs. Penrose was telling him about the excursion, he asked if Mellie and I might go too if Miss Greyson came to look after us.” She stuck out her lower lip at the sight of her sister’s darkening expression and insisted, “I did not beg to go, Juliet; I said nothing at all. The suggestion was Mr. Kirkland’s. He thought Mellie and I would enjoy seeing the gardens too, and we would . I think Mr. Kirkland is the kindest man I have ever met — and the handsomest, too,” she added with a touch of defiance, ready to defend her hero in the teeth of any disagreement with this sweeping pronouncement. “Don’t you agree, Miss Greyson?”

Thus directly appealed to, Miss Greyson could only concur that it had indeed been kind of Mr. Kirkland to think of including the younger girls. She hoped neither Juliet nor Olivia would notice the lack of conviction in her tones. The second part of Olivia’s statement she ignored completely, being totally unable to praise Mr. Kirkland’s person while some rather nasty thoughts as to his motives for this manoeuvre disturbed her peace of mind.

Her glance swivelled to Juliet biting her lip in wordless annoyance at this development. No more than her companion did the young beauty attribute Mr. Kirkland’s action to disinterested chivalry. Apparently she found it equally impossible to articulate her true reaction. Juliet and she, Miss Greyson mused ruefully, shared a recently acquired but strong disinclination to mention the popular guest at the Manor, though he occupied an uncomfortably significant portion of their thoughts for different reasons.

The young girl had been a trifle wary in her relations with her companion just lately, if that was not too strong a description. Certainly she was less confiding of her feelings and reactions to passing events than formerly, though on the surface nothing seemed changed. This lack of openness dated from her disappointment at the dance following the play performance, but the wariness had crept into her manner only during the last few days as a direct result of the confrontation between the companions after Mr. Kirkland’s morning call on his return from Bath. Miss Greyson had taken the girl to task for her rudeness to a guest, and though she had tried to soften her reprimand by trying to communicate in a tactfully oblique fashion her understanding of and sympathy for the motivation behind such behaviour, she had realized too late that this had been a mistake. Juliet’s sense of humiliation had evidently been even greater than her companion had first thought. She could not bear the idea that anyone was aware of her chagrin, no matter how sympathetic.

She was bound and determined to correct such an impression. Though Miss Greyson had hastened to undo her tactical error by accepting Juliet’s heated denial of any feeling of ill-usage in her dealings with Mr. Kirkland, even going so far as to proffer an apology for having ever thought so in the first place, she had been afraid this hasty retreat would not suffice to put her back on the old, comfortable footing with Juliet. Subsequent events had borne out her fears. The young girl’s ill-concealed displeasure at her duenna’s inclusion in the picnic party was not due to fear that the presence of authority would curtail her own verbal sniping at Mr. Kirkland; she had ceased such tactics after the reprimand, though the formal politeness that characterized her demeanour on the few succeeding meetings between the erstwhile friends had been no less obvious and unnatural.

No, Juliet’s present discontent probably stemmed from a desire to conceal from her too-perceptive chaperon any behaviour on her part that might be considered to encourage Lord Hampton’s current pursuit of her. Further observation had not altered Miss Greyson’s instinctive impression that the earl was not a man to be trusted with a lovely and innocent girl. However, this was another matter, and she was in a mood to be grateful for small blessings; there was no denying it was a relief to be spared the worry over how far the child’s pique would carry her in overt retaliation to Mr. Kirkland.

And that was the only thing she had to be grateful for at present, she thought, unable to keep a niggling anxiety at bay as the girls proceeded to acquaint her with all the details of the proposed expedition to Maniston Seminary. She kept an attentive look on her face, but her thoughts returned to the subject that had prevented her from reading the book in her lap earlier.

Her own position was becoming of increasing concern. Ever since Mr. Kirkland had announced his trip to Bath and offered to be the purveyor of messages to Lady Mallory, she had been trying with diminished success to convince herself that her secret was still undiscovered. At first it had been just a flash, a premonition that he knew all about her that had taken possession of her mind while she stared into his compelling dark eyes. The feeling subsided once she put some distance between herself and her tormentor. During the time he was away, she had been able to go about her daily tasks with an assumed composure that became more natural as the image of Mr. Kirkland faded. Unfortunately, her brittle facade of calm was shattered at the first sight of his disturbingly intent face on his return, and none of her efforts to retrieve it had been at all successful thereafter.

No one had ever accused her of being fanciful, but just lately, when in company with Mr. Kirkland, she had had the strangest sensation that he was willing her to confess her deception — such was the effect those eyes had on her. It was nonsensical, of course. She was allowing a natural lowness of spirits due to the deterioration of her relations with Juliet to make her abnormally sensitive. Mr. Kirkland was fond of Mellie and Olivia; it was one of the things she liked about him — one of the very few things, she reminded herself. Certainly she had noted with approval the indulgence that characterized his manner toward the youngsters. He always spared time for them, so why could she not simply accept that he had suggested she go along with the party solely for the purpose of enabling the girls to participate in the coming treat? She had no tangible cause to believe otherwise, but the fact remained that she could not look forward to this picnic without a feeling of trepidation.

When the day for the proposed outing arrived, no one would have guessed the constant effort required to maintain her customary air of impersonal pleasantness; she had her fears well in hand. The numbers had increased in the intervening days to include Bertram and his tutor, and since the weather continued sunny and seasonably warm, it was a relaxed and merry group of young people who assembled on the south lawn eager to ride the eight miles to Maniston. Miss Greyson had experienced a slight qualm at the inclusion of Olivia, who was an indifferent rider, but it turned out to be an easy ride, and thanks to a soft rain during the early hours of the morning, the dust that usually accompanied a rider at this season was absent.

The various parties had decided to meet on the grounds of the seminary, and the Penroses had made themselves responsible for providing the picnic feast, so the Fairhill contingent had nothing to do but get itself to the spot, using whatever means appealed. After an easy paced and mostly shady trip over reasonable terrain and good roads, they arrived at their destination almost as fresh as if they had travelled in the comfort of a carriage.

They entered Maniston Seminary through the Roman arch of a charming, three-storied Jacobean gatehouse of pink brick and stone, divided exactly in two by the entrance road. The existing house was of a later date and had been set at some distance along the avenue, Mr. Ryding explained to Miss Greyson. The avenue, lined with handsome cypress trees, was part of the landscaping plan and had been designed to curve around the site of the original structure, which had predated the gatehouse. He said no more on the subject, so five minutes later those who were visiting the estate for the first time came around a deep bend in the approach road to gaze unprepared at the picturesque ruins of an earlier building. It appeared to be a chapel or hall with one long wall nearly intact and parts of the adjacent walls still standing. One lovely Gothic window remained untouched by time, except that it was bereft of its glass, its pointed arch standing out visually against a background of old trees.

Mr. Ryding chuckled. “True, ma’am, but he found numerous other ways to dissipate it. There are some fantastic structures on the property that he did add solely to enhance his garden walks, including a Chinese bridge over a minuscule stream and a Greek temple by the lake.”

Before they could move on to the meeting place, Olivia had to be firmly dissuaded from dismounting immediately to explore the inviting ivy-covered ruins, consoled by a promise that she and Mellie might return to the site after the picnic. The parties came together near a small apple orchard. The Penrose Hall group had already dismounted, and Emily and Alice were busy directing the servants in setting out tables in the shade of the trees. Since the location was several hundred feet from the stables, the preparations demanded a good deal of walking back and forth, and the young men offered their services in transporting food from the carriages once the horses were turned over to the grooms.

Thanks to willing hands and feet, the feast was nearly ready by the time carriage wheels announced the arrival of the party from Thorpe Manor. Miss Greyson had turned over the special marinated mushrooms she had prepared as well as Mrs. Murchison’s popular dilled cheese bread to swell the variety of tempting offerings. When Lady Teasdale arrived bearing baskets of tarts and maids of honour, the young people of each group decided as one to fall upon the food without further delay.

Mrs. Penrose, herself past the age to enjoy sitting about on the ground, had had a number of chairs included for dining in comparative comfort, but except for Miss Greyson who thought her status as chaperon demanded it and Sir Malcolm, whose kindness led him to declare himself averse to sharing his food with the ants, the picnickers ignored the chairs and ranged themselves on rugs under the spreading trees while they gorged on slices of home-cured ham, a variety of cheeses, precooked chicken parts, and tasty fruits and vegetables.

On seeing Miss Greyson seating herself on a chair held out by Sir Malcolm, Mr. Kirkland had made a motion as if to join her at the table, but at that moment Lady Eugenia had laughingly patted the spot next to her in obvious invitation, and Sir Malcolm had dropped into the chair beside Miss Greyson. Mr. Kirkland checked his movement smoothly and joined Lady Eugenia and Lady Teasdale with a smile.

Juliet welcomed Lord Hampton, who had steered a direct course to her side, and carefully avoided her chaperon’s eye. The men had dismissed the servants to their own meal, promising to wait upon the ladies in their stead, and the alfresco meal proceeded amidst much hilarity as the gentlemen leapt up continuously to satisfy the slightest wish expressed by a member of the fair sex.

From her vantage point at one of the tables, Miss Greyson was easily able to monitor the entire scene while keeping one ear tuned to Sir Malcolm’s gentle flow of commonplaces. She noted with amusement that Bertram and Alistair Penrose, animated no doubt by a sense of mischief, were pressing additional helpings of various foodstuffs on the younger ladies in a manner so exquisitely polite as must have aroused suspicion, had not the general hubbub and the little snatches of individual conversations kept the girls too engrossed to detect the teasing attentions. Mr. Kirkland caught her eye suddenly, and a look of shared enjoyment passed between them just as Miss Alice Penrose exclaimed, “Heavens, Bertram! No more, please! I shan’t be able to walk round the gardens at all if I eat another bite.”

The rest of the ladies echoed these sentiments just in time to save Olivia and Amelia from bursting with impatience to be off exploring. Those who had visited Maniston before had described some of the sights to be seen on the various walks, and with such a vast choice of attractions within the grounds it was not to be expected that everyone should wish to keep together like a flock of sheep .

Miss Greyson was aware that the two children were her special responsibility today. She had taken pains to place herself where she could not watch Juliet, hoping the girl would relax and moderate her rather obvious efforts to captivate Lord Hampton. But after an hour or so of eavesdropping, she could only trust the girl’s behaviour would not seem so transparent to others less familiar with all the nuances of her personality. If only they could go back to those untroubled days before the arrival of Mr. Kirkland had brought Juliet’s simmering coquetry to the boil! She had not gone to the lengths of ignoring the rest of the company, thanks to basic good manners, but a man of Lord Hampton’s experience would be in no doubt that he was being singled out for the young lady’s favours.

Since there was nothing to be done about the situation at present, Miss Greyson agreed with Olivia and Mellie that the first aspect of the gardens to be examined should be the Gothic ruin. Leaving the servants to clear away the remnants of the picnic, the large party split up into groups that merged, divided, and reformed over the next two hours as everyone explored the delights and surprises offered by the well-planned romantic gardens. There were dozens of seats tucked away in corners for quiet contemplation of a single aspect of the landscaping, so there was no danger of anyone’s becoming exhausted while pursuing beauty. Olivia and Bertram were determined to miss no attraction the gardens offered, no matter how obscure the location, and Amelia allowed herself to be dragged along in their energetic wake. From time to time, they returned with reports of some unexpected delight to tempt Miss Greyson, who found herself hustled along at a faster pace than she would have chosen under other circumstances. Still, the children’s enthusiasm was contagious, and she could always stop and sit in a particularly lovely spot while they dashed off in yet another direction.

The sun was still high in the sky, and Miss Greyson was grateful for the parasol she carried when not amongst the trees. She was alone for the moment, admiring a bed of asters and trying to shield her face from the burning rays, when a faint silver sound of water enticed her between some hedges. The next moment, a soft exclamation of pleasure blended with the water’s gurgle as she entered a cool area shaded by one enormous oak tree. She sank onto a wooden seat built around the trunk of the tree and closed her parasol thankfully as she leaned back and gazed with pleasure at a dolphin fountain spilling a tiny stream of water into a small pool. Blue hydrangeas bloomed at the edge of the pool and added the last perfect touch to an idyllic setting. In this spot, none of her problems seemed to have any importance. She could have stayed there unmoving for hours.

When Mrs. Penrose had first disclosed the plan for today’s outing to him, he had suggested including the two youngest girls in response to an instantaneous conviction that Miss Spicer, with her rare appreciation of beauty, would enjoy touring the renowned gardens for their own sake almost more than any of the ladies already invited. She had been having rather a thin time of it lately and deserved a treat. Even with the responsibility of Olivia and Mellie, he was persuaded she would derive much pleasure from the excursion.

As he wandered in the direction where he had last caught a glimpse of Miss Greyson’s dark blue dress, Mr. Kirkland was experiencing a judicious satisfaction with the success of his plan. It was turning out to be a most pleasurable excursion; certainly nature had cooperated wholeheartedly with a perfect day, and the picnic feast itself could not have been bettered. Miss Spicer had appeared more relaxed than he had seen her lately, and if the beauteous Miss Brewster was still treating him with a touch of reserve, at least it was not so obvious as to draw unwelcome comment. If the equally beautiful and infinitely more sophisticated Lady Eugenia was demonstrating an unobtrusive but unmistakable preference for his own company, at least it redressed the balance. And since she was well up to snuff and knew the rules of the game, there was no possibility of future misunderstanding in that quarter.

For a moment, a brooding expression settled over his countenance as he considered his friend. Mal had said nothing to the point, but he had an uneasy hunch that his quiet, reserved host had been knocked in a heap by a pair of beautiful but calculating blue eyes. If rumour spoke truly, both Hampton and his sister needed to marry money, and he knew himself to be a far richer matrimonial prize than poor Mal. It had taken a bit of adroitness to slip away from the lady a few moments ago, but he had used the children as an excuse when Malcolm and young Penrose had joined them in the grape arbour. Even if he did not discover Miss Spicer’s whereabouts, the solitude was welcome at present.

The sound of running water somewhere close by chased personal thoughts out of his head. He slowed his pace and glanced around for the source, coming into the clearing as Miss Greyson had earlier. He saw her before she was aware of his presence, and it struck him of a sudden that she was a lonely figure, though at the moment she looked happy enough in all conscience, sitting relaxed with her back against the tree and her hands resting motionless in her lap. Though those abominable spectacles concealed her eyes at any distance, he knew when she perceived him by the involuntary straightening of her back and her mouth. A nicely curved mouth, he observed coming closer, despite the stuff she used to blur its outline and drain its colour. The heat of the day had taken its toll on the disguise, however, and the rich natural colour of her lips was rather enticing as they widened into a resolute smile when she rose, frustrating his intention of joining her on the bench.

“Isn’t this the loveliest, most peaceful spot imaginable?” she remarked softly, indicating their surroundings with a wave of one white hand. “I’d be quite content to remain here for hours, but I’m afraid it’s time I caught up with Olivia and Mellie again.”

Her laugh didn’t ring quite true, but she answered easily, “You do not know Olivia if you can say that, sir. Bertram told her there is a tower on the grounds that is over one hundred feet high, and she is determined to climb to the top. She will try to bully Mellie into climbing with her if I am any judge.”

He returned a light answer, suiting his pace to hers as she re-entered the path, knowing he had only himself to blame for her reluctance to spend any time in his company. He was strongly regretting the retaliative impulse that had led him to tease her so unmercifully in the past, but though he longed to reassure her that she had nothing to fear from him, somehow the words refused to form themselves into sentences. He feared she would avoid him totally or, worse yet, run away again.

So they compared notes on their impressions of the gardens. It seemed Mr. Kirkland’s grandfather had been acquainted with Henry Hoare, who had created a famous romantic-classical garden at Stourhead in Wiltshire. From what his father had told him of a boyhood visit there, he would deem Maniston to be contemporary and similar, though on a somewhat reduced scale. Miss Greyson confessed that she had seen nothing to compare with Maniston in the area around Bath, but when Mr. Kirkland tried to turn the conversation to her life in Bath, she brought it back to the present with a determination that would have been quelling had he not sensed the fear that lay beneath her formal manner. Fortunately, at that moment the trees thinned, the path widened, and they came in sight of the tower Bertram had described. The scene that met their disbelieving eyes dispelled any constraint along with any consideration of personalities.

The tower was not as tall as previously reported but stood well over fifty feet high. It was of red brick and was circular in form with a crude narrow stairway winding up the outside with no other support than the tower wall itself. Virginia noticed all this without really noticing at the time; her eyes were glued to two figures, one only a few feet from the top of the tower and the other just appearing in view from the back of the structure about two thirds of the way up.

“Don’t make a sound!” warned Mr. Kirkland in a hoarse whisper. “You could startle them into falling.” The horrified watchers stood rigid, side by side in the blazing sunshine, but Virginia suddenly felt a chill creeping over her body. She shivered, and the man at her side enfolded her more securely within that strong, comforting arm, though his eyes never left the two figures so far above them.

Virginia had to try twice before she could produce a sound. “It was Olivia — she’s such a wilful child. Oh, whatever possessed her to attempt such a foolhardy stunt!” She gasped and closed her eyes tightly as the girl at the top missed her footing and stumbled to her knees just below the opening to the roof of the tower.

“You can look, she’s made it.” Mr. Kirkland removed the icy hand clutching his sleeve and took it into a warm clasp. “Coming down will be more difficult and dangerous. As soon as Mellie gets to the top, I am going up after them. Wait right here.”

Two pairs of eyes shifted as one to the younger girl. After a charged instant, Virginia clutched the hand holding hers so convulsively her nails dug into his thumb. “She must have frozen; she hasn’t moved an inch since we arrived!” The panic in her voice earned a sharp reprimand from her companion.

“That won’t help, girl. Get a hold of yourself. I’ll bring them both down safely.” He freed his hand and gauged the height of the wooden fence with narrowed eyes. Before Virginia could move a muscle, he had leaped on it in one spring and scrambled over the top.

“Simon, be careful!” The words were wrenched out of her, and it’s doubtful she was aware of uttering them. The sound of Olivia’s voice calling to Amelia drew her glance from the running man disappearing around the side of the tower. She could hear the intrepid Olivia urging her friend to finish the climb, promising her a glorious view, taunting her with being a baby; but Mellie’s replies — if she made any — were too soft to reach the ears of the anxious governess .

The younger girl was crouched in a kneeling position, one hand on the narrow railing that connected the widely spaced balusters and one hand on the wall itself. Her head was turned toward the wall, and she appeared frozen indeed. Olivia’s urgings became a trifle strident as the very real danger for both girls finally began to impress itself on the elder. The stairs were barely wide enough for one. It would be perilous for someone to try to edge by another person, especially since the railing was broken in several places. Even had the railing been intact, the distance between the balusters was great enough to allow a full-grown horse to slip through, let alone a slimly built child. At that point, it was a sheer drop of nearly fifty feet.

Miss Greyson called in clear authoritative accents, “Olivia, be silent and stay right where you are. Mr. Kirkland is coming up to help Mellie down first. You are to stay put until he comes back for you, do you understand?” She waited until the surprised and subdued girl signified agreement before speaking in soothing tones to the paralyzed youngster crouching against the wall.

“I know you are frightened, Mellie, but you are perfectly safe. Mr. Kirkland will be there in just a moment now, and all you have to do is obey him. You don’t have to look down at all if it frightens you, just do exactly as he tells you. Will you do that, my dear?”

She could not be sure that her words penetrated the fog of terror that enveloped the child. There was no audible reaction, and she was about to try again when Mr. Kirkland came around the side of the tower to stop short a couple of steps from the sprawled figure. He made no attempt to touch the child initially. That he was talking softly to her was evident to the woman below, but strain as she might to hear, no sounds reached her. She gripped her hands together tightly, pressing her knuckles against her mouth, watching for some sign of movement in the child. The stairs were so narrow and winding that carrying her down was not an attractive option except as a last resort.

Glancing up, her eyes found Olivia leaning over the edge of the wall around the roof of the tower as she peered silently at the tableau beneath her. It seemed a nerve-stretching eternity before the silent spectators saw the small hand that grasped the rail unclench slowly and drop off the rail. Virginia released a painful breath as Mellie turned her head the tiniest bit toward Mr. Kirkland, who smiled encouragingly at her. There appeared to be more conversation and directions before he extended his hand and Mellie, after a palpitating pause, put hers in it. She was drawn carefully to her feet, still facing and clutching the wall; it was another minute or two before either hand-linked figure made any further movement. The woman on the ground bit her knuckles and concentrated on willing the two to begin the descent.

In due course they did this. The man went first with his left hand on the railing, his right holding the left hand of the young girl. Mellie continued to face the wall when not watching her feet, which she placed on each step as her rescuer’s foot left it. Her right hand never left the wall during the long, awkward descent. When they disappeared from view, Virginia repeated her warning to Olivia to remain where she was before she headed around the base of the tower to where the stairs began.

A broken section of the fence showed clearly how the children had gained access to the structure. Virginia climbed through herself and was waiting at the foot of the tower when Mr. Kirkland led Amelia down the last steps. Her heart went out to the trembling white-faced child. When she opened her arms, Mellie rushed into their safety and burst into tears. The woman was still petting the distraught girl and murmuring soothing platitudes when Mr. Kirkland reappeared with a shamefaced but slightly defiant Olivia five minutes later.

Obviously her rescuer had already delivered himself of a homily on the wanton foolishness of the escapade, for which Miss Greyson could only be grateful. She was too drained of strength to attempt anything of the sort herself and was becoming rather alarmed at Mellie’s continued weeping. The child was in danger of making herself sick.

“There, there, Mellie — here is Olivia. You are both safe. It’s all over now. Stop crying, my child.” She succeeded in raising Mellie’s chin from her shoulder so she might see her friend, but the sobs had scarcely abated at all, and she cast a glance of worried appeal at Mr. Kirkland, who was wiping his streaming forehead with a handkerchief. It was Olivia who came to the rescue, however.

“Don’t be such a baby, Mellie!” she exclaimed bracingly. “You’d have made it if you had listened to me. I told you not to look down. You missed the most beautiful view all over the gardens, and I saw a grotto over there which I intend to visit, but I won’t take you if you don’t stop blubbering.”

This somewhat heartless diatribe achieved what Miss Greyson’s gentle solicitude could not. Mellie’s sobs lessened and stopped. She mopped her woebegone face with Miss Greyson’s handkerchief and bent eagerly to her friend. “A real grotto made of shells? Do let us hurry, Livvy! That is, if you have no objection, ma’am?”

“And off they sail on a new adventure, blithely leaving two wrecks on the shoals,” Mr. Kirkland commented dryly as he took Miss Greyson’s elbow and assisted her back through the hole in the fence after the girls had hurried away. “If I’d dared take the time to search for that, I’d have spared my coat a tear.” He paused to brush some dirt from the shoulder of his blue coat and flipped a finger at a small rent in the sleeve.

“Sir,” Miss Greyson said earnestly, “I have not thanked you yet for coming to the girls’ rescue in such a splendid manner. I am truly grateful and so will be their parents. They are in my care today, and I must hold myself grossly negligent of their wellbeing.”

“Nonsense,” he cut in ruthlessly when she would have continued in this vein, “you could never have known there would be an actual hazard in a pleasure garden. The less said about this little episode the better.” Once again he was the well-dressed, imperturbable man of town, though his skin tones were still heightened after such exertion in the broiling sun. “Let us head for a shadier walk. You know,” he remarked conversationally, “the still unknown but undoubtedly heroic fellow who takes on that formidable child has my wholehearted sympathy.”

For the first time since the discovery of the girls on the tower staircase, Virginia relaxed. Her spontaneous laughter was low and musical. “No wonder you are still unwed, sir, with such an attitude. No doubt you are seeking a meek, downtrodden creature without an idea to call her own who will be delighted to do just as you dictate in everything.”

“There you are, Miss Greyson! That little fool of a —” The red-haired lad coming around a bend at a fast clip broke off abruptly as he noted Mr. Kirkland’s presence. He came up to them and substituted lamely, “I believe Juliet is in the rose garden if you should wish to join her, ma’am. Lord Hampton is being so kind as to conduct her around.”

Bertram bowed and left them, secure in the knowledge that Miss Greyson had taken his meaning. So, too, had Mr. Kirkland apparently, for as they changed direction to head for the rose garden, he remarked calmly, “There is no cause for alarm, you know. He wouldn’t be such a fool as to do anything that would thrust a spoke in his own wheel.”

Mr. Kirkland appeared to choose his words with care. “He comes from an old and respected family. It is rumoured that he is deeply in debt, but I have no exact knowledge on that subject.” After a significant pause, he added deliberately, “Sir Reginald would have better information than I.”

“No, but she is at a difficult age and she is having a rather hard time at the moment, and that is more or less your fault, you know. Oh, I do not mean to imply that any blame attaches to your conduct,” she added hastily as he started to protest, “or that you have anything to reproach yourself with, but you did pay her decided attentions you must admit, and the fact that she read more into them than you intended and feels herself so humiliated now is behind her current recklessness.”

“My reaction to Miss Brewster’s beauty was an honest one; she has a face like a flower and a lovely, graceful body.” She could hear the self-mockery creep into his tones. “This is only the third time in my life I’ve ever been bowled out by a woman’s looks, and one of them was not even a beauty in the strictest sense of the word. Perhaps I should have known at once that an essential part of the child’s appeal is that dewy innocence that accompanies extreme youth and that can never substitute for other qualities with a man of my years. For that lack of insight, I must hold myself accountable.” He slowed his pace to a crawl and turned to face her with a lightly pleated brow. “Has it not occurred to you, though, that your charge’s current behaviour stems from a deep-seated vanity and a rather disaffecting determination to attach every man who crosses her path? A few setdowns won’t do her any harm.”

“No, but after the way she has been cosseted and admired all her life it is understandable surely, if not laudable, that she should overreact to such a signal disappointment. In time, I hope to bring her to recognize her motives and to own her mistake. She is vain, but not heartless and not totally selfish, though I admit her propensity for coquetry is worrisome to a chaperon. Even that can be attributed in large part to youthful spirits. When she really gives her heart, she will change. ”

He laughed in genuine amusement, and little gold specks lighted the dark eyes. “Well, I was fairly young the first time, but I believe if my enchantress had had as much elegance of mind as of person I’d be a Benedick today. She was a glorious golden creature with a brain the size of a pea and the interests and tastes of a milkmaid.”

“Lady Eugenia,” she thought shrewdly, and then gasped as she realized she had articulated the thought. Two spots of hectic colour burned in her cheeks, and she made haste to undo the mischief. “I do apologize most sincerely, sir. It was unpardonable of me to become so personal. Pray forget I said that.”

“Yes … I mean no, never!” she replied distractedly, determined to terminate a conversation that was fast getting out of hand, and aware even as she answered that her words were a lie. Fortunately for her peace of mind, they were almost in the rose garden. She must concentrate on Juliet.