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DEAR FRIEND,
I find it astonishing that any one should be interested in my private correspondence, however I appreciate your explanation. In answer to your odd inquiry, I do not find myself a close friend of Miss Pratt. Indeed, we have spoken very little, as she usually reserves her time for Lord Harrington.
Thank you for your kind advice. I find a new day helps one’s perspective very well. I must confess, the knowledge that you still wish to continue our correspondence has lightened my heart as well.
I will continue riding with Lord Harrington as you suggest, but find myself confused, for everyone seems to have their own opinion of Lord Harrington, his preferences and his struggles, so much that I do not know what is real..
Jane Shaw
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TUCKING THE NOTE INTO the green jade box, Jane hurried from the library, cursing Sarah for insisting on doing her hair in a more complicated style.
She was definitely not doing something as unladylike as running when she approached the stables. She stopped a reasonable distance away and smoothed her hair, her eyes searching for Lord Harrington.
He spoke with a groom, his back to Jane as she approached. His figure was at advantage in his riding pants, which left nothing to the imagination. She blushed and turned her head to hide her thoughts. He reached towards Mermaid, absently rubbing his neck while continuing the conversation with the groom. Mermaid turned his head and nipped at Lord Harrington’s sleeve.
“Ow! I do not have any apples today, Mer, leave me be.” Jane laughed and he turned immediately to catch her at it. “Good morning Miss Shaw, I see you are becoming well accustomed to the early morning hours.” His eyes twinkled as he took in her hair, her face, and all of a sudden Sarah was a genius.
Jane stepped forward, her face warm. “I think not, for like Mermaid I am easily distracted by food.”
“Well perhaps our rides should include the orchard.” He grinned at her as he helped her step on the mounting block, and she tried in vain to keep her smile contained.
“I would enjoy such a detour heartily, my lord.” She straightened in her saddle, and then waited for him to mount. Together they rode toward the orchard, and upon arriving, Lord Harrington dismounted. He reached his hand up to help Miss Shaw and together they walked through looking for early fruit.
“I spent many happy hours climbing these trees and eating apples.”
“I too have many happy memories of my home’s orchard. They are a child’s play ground.”
“Yes. I used to come here with George and have contests.”
“What kind? Wait...you mean wagers?”
“No, we didn’t really wager when we were very young. Our contests were things like seeing who could run faster, or who could throw farthest. Many rotten apples were used that way.”
“Ah. And who ran faster and threw farthest?”
“George ran faster, but I threw farthest, so we considered ourselves evenly split on talent. At least for awhile.”
She laughed.
They reached the end of the row and he turned to look at her. “Miss Shaw, would you...?” He paused, his serious face expressing enough that she caught her breath. He looked down. “Would you care to gallop?” He looked up again, his face composed, and she nodded, her breath returning as she moved to mount Clover.
Their gallop continued for a few minutes before they slowed, and conversation continued.
“Miss Shaw, I should like to ask you something.” Lord Harrington had twisted in his seat to speak to her as Clover caught up with Mermaid.
He waited until she stopped, then cocked his head as he said, “Will you please tell me your opinion of Miss Pratt?”
She hurriedly looked away, then out towards the direction they were headed – anywhere but his searching gaze.
“I do not know Miss Pratt well enough to have formed an opinion, at least one that would be of any use to you, my lord.”
He frowned and dismounted, holding out his hand to help her down once more. They had reached a cluster of trees, and together they moved forward, their horse’s reins dangling from their hands.
“May I...that is, may I impose upon you as a confidant?”
“Of course, but I cannot help but wonder why you don’t take these problems to your brother, with whom you share a much closer relationship.”
“I should, you are right, but I cannot. I am a coward in this, but at the very least I should wait to burden him until after this house party.”
She watched him out of the corner of her eye, the set of his shoulders worrying her. “Then, I will do what I can in his stead.”
“Thank you.” There was a pause; he seemed to be finding the right words. “No doubt you are aware I was courting Miss Pratt this last season. I have been distancing myself from her for a reason that frankly, may not make any sense.” He ran his hand through his hair. “This action has resulted in a clearer view of both her and her family, and yet I am sure I do not see things as clearly as I would were I not involved.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Forgive me, I cannot be much clearer. The point is merely that I would like to know more of Miss Pratt’s character, and I do not believe I am in a position to know it.”
“Yes, I can see that, my lord. But forgive an impertinent question: if you have already decided to distance yourself, why is it important to know her character further?”
“Your question is understandable.” He paused again, pushing aside a branch for her. “Again I must ask your forbearance, for I’m afraid I cannot explain better. Only that peace of mind seems to me of most importance lately.”
Concerned, she watched his face as she replied, “Very well. What is it you would know?” They had stopped now, and as he faced her, his expression relaxed as he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Perhaps you could call me Charles.”
She expelled her breath. “I...could not take that liberty.”
“What if it was only under these trees where the birds and wind may hear us?” His teasing manner caught her off guard, and she wondered at his capricious mood.
“I think not, my lord.” She insisted, and he sighed, moving forward once more.
“I should like to have your opinion of Miss Pratt because you seem to understand people.”
“I should not care to gossip, my lord.”
“No, of course not, but perhaps you would be willing to express an opinion that would be useful. And I promise to view it entirely as such rather than truth spoken down through the ages.” He pushed back another branch and she ducked under it, losing his arm. “How about Mr. Atwater? Surely you could demote me to that in this leafy haven.”
Jane shook her head. “The forest has turned you into a poet, my lord.” But she smiled at him anyways and continued. “Mr. Atwater it is, under this leafy haven.”
He bowed. “Thank you, Miss Shaw. And will you not consider my other request? I ask it most particularly, for there are very few who will give me their true opinion, and I value yours as much as any of them. More so, perhaps, for knowing it will be entirely honest.”
“I thank you, my lord, for your high esteem.”
“Nonsense.” She smiled as he waited for her reply.
Jane took a deep breath and looked down as she prevaricated. “Regardless of my opinion, I think you should also ask your brother. Forgive me for insisting, but I am sure he could give you a much better account of her, and I am sure he would answer with the integrity you accuse me of.”
He chuckled. “On this point, I have. And he approves of her other than a slightly nauseous feeling he gets each time he converses with her.”
She grinned. “I see.”
“You too?”
“No...although I am very careful what I say to her.”
“Come now, surely you can be more clear than that?”
“I....I believe she would be good at chess.” There was silence as she waited for him to understand her.
“Miss Shaw, forgive me, but I do not understand you at all. Are you suggesting I play her at chess?”
“Actually, that might be a very good idea, my lord, for although she would let you win, I believe she could soundly beat you.”
“Now, now, that’s not fair.” He looked at her curiously. “Do you really think so?”
“I do.”
He paused, absorbing this unlikely information about the Paragon. “And what does this tell you about her?”
“She plans very well. She can anticipate moves, she’s very intelligent, though any well-bred female would claim otherwise, and she can both deftly make moves that are offensive and defensive.” She looked at him, but his gaze was elsewhere. “I’m sorry, my lord. I hope I have not offended you. I did not want -” She was interrupted by a hand on her arm.
“I asked your opinion and I cannot regret that.” He let go and they moved forward, his hands properly behind his back. Jane breathed once more as he added, “Perhaps I will try a game of chess.”
***
PRENNAGE HALL, SUFFOLK
July 2, 1813
Jane,
Lady Harrington wrote to apprise me of a Mr. Lawrence’s attentions, as he consulted with her prior to speaking with you. I agree with her assessment that he may not be the best option but he is currently your only option. I remind you of our agreement and hope you will honor it by accepting him should he declare himself. In the event I have been misinformed, do write me immediately as Lady Harrington’s information is not always the whole story.
I must also add an admonition: Do not allow Lady Harrington to bully you. I have far too many stories convicting her of folly in her youth to allow that.
Lady Shaw
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JANE,
I have decided to dispense with formalities, for you are Jane when I look at you and Jane when I write to you, so Jane you will be. As you do not have knowledge of my person beyond the anonymity of a jade box, I feel perfectly safe from any impropriety.
I am curious what you think of Lord Harrington’s planned improvements to his estate. Many call him a fool, kinder voices say he’s hopeful, but he seems to ignore them all in his efforts to make things better for his tenants.
Now I must ask a favor - I would like your opinion of Miss Pratt. Do not fear gossip, merely I am trying to make out her character more completely.
The Pleyel is coming along beautifully as I knew it would.
Your friend
***
AT NINE O’CLOCK PRECISELY Mr. McInnes arrived at Holcombe Manor’s stables, looking around as Hunter came to a walk and then a halt.
“Looking for someone?” He twisted his head to see Lord Petersham leaning against the wall of the stables, his riding whip bouncing against his thigh. Lord Harrington stood next to him, his arms folded in front of his chest.
Mr. McInnes dismounted and handed his reins to the groom, striding forward to meet whatever this was. He stood there, a half head shorter than either of them, his hands at his side, his expression entirely absent as it usually was.
Lord Harrington didn’t move; his eyes shooting daggers. “We understand you’ve been meeting Lady Margaret here each morning.”
Mr. McInnes said nothing.
“Meg is welcome to ride with whomever she wants.” Lord Petersham hadn’t moved either, his riding whip still tapping out a rhythm on his thigh. “However...”
Lord Harrington took the ball. “Being new to the neighborhood, you may not be aware of our reputation.” He unfolded his arms and walked forward a little. Lord Petersham took that as his cue, straightening and following suit. The pair of them glared at the shorter man.
Again, Mr. McInnes said nothing, although he was beginning to wonder if this was wise.
“We’ve burnt down buildings, destroyed any number of vehicles, and managed to scare every cat within a rather large radius. My personal favorite is the one where we made Thompson’s dog disappear. It was years before they allowed us near any gunpowder, wasn’t it, Lord Petersham?” Lord Harrington raised one eyebrow, his eyes narrowed.
“What Lord Harrington is trying to explain is that we would appreciate it if any man with intentions towards our sister would...illuminate us.” Lord Petersham’s whip was as steady as his gaze.
Mr. McInnes swallowed and looked toward the house hoping Lady Margaret would show, but to no avail. He looked back at the pair, his eyebrows twitching, and decided it was time to launch a defense. “I had considered asking permission to court Lady Margaret, but in view of your mother’s opinions decided to withdraw my interest.”
The brothers exchanged a look.
“What opinions specifically are you referring to?” Lord Petersham stopped rapping his thigh with the confounded whip, while Lord Harrington’s shoulders relaxed.
“On more than one occasion she has made it clear that my antecedents are not worthy of her daughter, although she made no such mention to me in person, as she did not observe any interest on my part.”
Lord Petersham laughed. “Well of course not, you never show interest in anything. I’ve never seen such a stone-faced bas-“
“What my brother is trying to say is that given your ability to control your expressions so well, it is difficult for someone to guess your intentions.” Lord Harrington raised his eyebrow once more.
“As I said before, I have no intentions towards Lady Margaret and will quit our rides immediately.” He turned to go, his face a little redder.
“McInnes. I say! McInnes!” He turned around to face them, sighing. “Things aren’t all bad, old boy, you had only to say something, you know.” Lord Petersham was grinning as he threw his arm around him, and confused, he looked to Lord Harrington for answers.
“Perhaps, we should take these proceedings to my study.” And between them, they handily escorted the poor Scotsman inside.
An hour later, Mr. McInnes left Holcombe Manor with his wits entirely about him, but a careful observer would have noticed a slight twinkle to his eye and perfectly calm eyebrows as he rode away.
***
“SHUT THE DOOR PLEASE, Simmons.” The butler bowed as he did so, and George turned to face him.
“Well that went better than expected, what?” He sauntered over and sat on the cherrywood desk.
“Yes.” Charles shook his head. “Heaven knows it’ll take a lot to keep Meg in hand.”
“Did you see his face when you told him about Thompson’s dog?” George grinned.
Charles grinned right back at him. “And that whip. I nearly lost it when he kept looking at it. Anyone knows you’ve never used a whip in your life.”
“I suppose we’re not all bad at this older brother business.” He picked up a paper and tossed it back onto its pile. “Are you really going to apply these changes to the tenant farms?”
“I am. I’m waiting to converse with the previous steward of Prennage about the details, of course, but that’s the plan.”
“And of course all this could explain the long walks and daily rides with Miss Shaw, correct?” George waggled his eyebrows.
Charles scowled. “Well, no.” He ran his hands through his hair.
“Careful. Every time you do that, your hair looks like mine.”
“Nonsense.”
George’s smile was growing. “But if that isn’t why you spend time with her...?” Charles raised his eyebrow and George laughed. “No need to be the lord with me, Charlie.” He paused. “And what of the lovely Miss Pratt?”
Lord Harrington walked towards the window his hands clasped behind his back. “Two months ago I would have said I was planning a wedding for Christmas.”
“And then something happened.”
Charles turned around and rested his hands on his desk, the now familiar worry lines crossing his face. “Yes, something happened.”
“What? Charles, you’ve been so secretive and...well, different. You didn’t used to care who you married. Mother was delighted and I was off the hook to marry the ‘right’ girl, and....” He let out a breath. “What happened?”
“I can’t tell you. Not yet.” He held up a hand. “After this ridiculous house party I will explain everything.”
“But...fine.” George huffed and turned to go.
“I...”
George turned.
“I find my outlook a little different as a result. I find myself wanting to be more than just a man. I want to be a good man, George. Someone who made a difference. Someone who perhaps will leave a legacy of having done something to better other’s lives rather than just live off the spoils.” He lobbed a quill at his pile of papers and watched as it bounced off, landing on the floor.
“Of course you’ll do that, Charlie. There was never any doubt.” George’s forehead wrinkled. “And if you prefer substance over beauty for your countess, well...” He shrugged. “She’s an excellent sort.”
“It’s not...at least...I cannot marry Miss Pratt or anybody right now.”
“And when Our Dear Mother asks why not?”
Charles sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again. “I’m not sure I have a good answer, George. I’m really not.”
They were silent in commiseration for a moment, but then Charles lifted his head with a funny smile. “Miss Shaw gave me to understand Miss Pratt would beat me at chess if she didn’t let me win.”
“Did she now? Miss Shaw tends to be correct about things like that. It’s hard to imagine we’ve underestimated the incomparable Miss Pratt.”
“I believe she would let me win at any rate, so I’m sure we’ll never know if Miss Shaw is correct or not.”
George smirked. “Perhaps. I would wager she does win despite her desire to play the proper lady.
Lord Harrington eyes sparked. “Would you?”
George leaned forward, his hands on the back of a chair. “If Miss Pratt wins, you must give me your approval to marry Mary Makon.”
“Miss Makon? It has progressed as far as that?”
“Not quite, but if I have anything to say about it, it will.”
Charles shook his head. “George, I must be sentimental, because I would, you know. Give you my approval.”
George grinned, his feet bouncing as he said, “Excellent. Our Dear Mother never will, but she can’t gainsay you, and I expect it’s the only way I can pull this off.”
Charles chuckled. “Very well. And if she loses, as I expect, you must be the one to have a conversation with Meg about Mr. McInnes.”
George’s face stalled. “What? You must be joking.”
“Someone needs to talk to her of...” He waved his hand. “All of that. Mother will never do it since she disapproves, so it must be one of us.”
“How awful.” George wrinkled his nose.
“Yes, and come to think of it we had better spend more time getting to know him, don’t you think?”
“Oh, dash it all, I liked him better when we were trying to scare him.”
“Yes well, if he’s going to be our brother-in-law ... just word your questions so he can reply with a one word answer, alright?” He clapped him on the back, and together they left to go to breakfast.