The day following Mr. Erland’s picnic was naturally devoted to visiting and discussing it. The entire neighborhood, it seemed, was either receiving visits or making them. Joanna and her mother had the Grants in the morning, Selina still full of mortification over her clumsiness, and Joanna got a note from Constance asking her to tea at the vicarage. But these events were overshadowed by the afternoon call of Sir Rollin Denby and his sister.
The Rowntrees had seen little of Adrienne since her arrival. After her early call and their evening party, she had more or less ignored them. Thus, Joanna and her mother were surprised when a maid came to tell them that Adrienne and her brother were below.
“Just Mrs. Finley and Sir Rollin?” asked Mrs. Rowntree. “Is not Peter with them?”
“Only the two, ma’am.”
Mrs. Rowntree looked at her daughter, who shrugged. “Well, send them up, Mary.” The maid went out. “What can they want, I wonder?” murmured Mrs. Rowntree.
This was no more clear when their guests walked in. Adrienne was very splendid in a morning dress of amber cloth, trimmed with French braid. And the modishness of her brother’s long-tailed coat and buff pantaloons was unsurpassed. But the callers seemed to have nothing particular to say. Adrienne sat down beside Mrs. Rowntree and began to chat languidly about the picnic. “So charming,” she drawled. “And that house!”
Sir Rollin arranged himself beside Joanna, one arm flung along the back of the sofa, and said, “And so, have you recovered from the excitements of yesterday, Miss Rowntree?”
“Excitements?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you call them that? I confess that finding a clue to a treasure strikes me as exciting.”
Joanna looked toward her mother with some alarm. She had done as Jonathan Erland asked and mentioned the discovery to no one.
Sir Rollin smiled. “They are not listening. Have no fear, I shall not reveal the great secret.”
His voice held such mockery that Joanna flushed. “Mr. Erland wishes to keep the discovery quiet for the present.”
“Very wise of him, no doubt. I daresay, he would be plagued with treasure hunters if it came out. What does he plan to do?”
This last question was sharp, but in her flutter, Joanna did not notice. “I don’t know. It is so hard to believe that there is really a buried treasure. It seems so odd.”
“Does Erland think it is buried?” asked Denby quickly.
Joanna raised startled eyes to his face.
He smiled down at her. “You see how the idea excites even my curiosity. It is an irresistible concept. I am so glad that there is at least one friend with whom I can discuss it.” He looked deep into Joanna’s eyes.
The thought of being Sir Rollin’s confidante thrilled her. She smiled tremulously at him, then dropped her eyes. His gaze was overpowering. She turned to look the other way and was nonplussed to find that Adrienne was staring at her, a hard unfriendly look in her eyes. Joanna looked down again quickly.
“My dear Miss Rowntree,” said Adrienne in a cold brittle voice, “I have just been telling your mother about our newest addition to the house. The grotto is nearly finished.”
“Is it?” asked Joanna. “How splendid.”
“Yes, but I am quite put out with Mr. Erland. He has stolen a march on me with his picnic. I meant to give one in our park when the work there was finished.”
“Well, I am sure everyone would enjoy another,” said the girl. “They all seemed to have such fun.”
Adrienne tittered. “Repeat an entertainment. Indeed not.”
“Adrienne means to dazzle the neighborhood with some unknown treat,” put in Sir Rollin mockingly. He met his sister’s smoldering eyes with calm amusement.
“We are certainly experiencing a social whirl,” said Mrs. Rowntree. “I cannot remember so active a summer in this neighborhood.”
Adrienne chose to take this as a compliment to herself, and her expression softened. “I believe that one can be almost as well amused in the country as in London,” she replied graciously. “If things are arranged properly, of course.”
“We rely upon you to do so, my dear,” drawled Sir Rollin, and Adrienne looked nettled again.
How could brother and sister talk to each other so, wondered Joanna? Sir Rollin seemed to be almost goading her. And the looks she gave him were venomous. She glanced from one to the other uneasily. She and Gerald might be very different sorts, but he would never speak so to her.
“Have you been riding again, Miss Rowntree?” asked Sir Rollin, breaking her train of thought.
“Not for several days,” answered Joanna. “The afternoons have been so warm.”
“But you must ride in the morning in July, of course. Will you do me the honor of riding with me, perhaps tomorrow morning? I go out every day, but I confess that I am bored with my own company.”
“Oh. Oh, yes.” Joanna looked toward her mother, but though Mrs. Rowntree did not seem pleased, she said nothing.
“Splendid. I shall come by about ten then.”
Joanna nodded.
A muffled exclamation from Adrienne made them all turn to her. “I had nearly forgotten,” she said. “We have an important errand in Longton. We must be going.” Sir Rollin smiled.
The ladies escorted their callers out to the landing and watched them walk down the stairs. Mrs. Rowntree returned to the drawing room immediately, but something made Joanna linger by the doorway. A scrap of conversation drifted up from the front door below.
“I can’t imagine why you insisted on coming here today,” Adrienne said to her brother. “We were mistaken; there will be no trouble from this quarter. And it’s a dead bore visiting these bumpkins.”
“Is it?” murmured the gentleman.
“It is indeed, as you have been continually saying.” Adrienne’s voice sharpened. “And I hope you do not think to set up that insipid child as your next flirt, Rollin. In the first place, it will not do, and in the second, it would drive me quite mad having her about. What a ninnyhammer! You should go to Brighton. You have nearly fixed your interest with Susan Chudley, and you should cement the bargain as soon as may be.”
Joanna could not hear what Sir Rollin said to this, but his sister’s reply came floating up from the front lawn.
“Not marry Susan? You must be mad! I warn you, Rollin, if you whistle this fortune down the wind, you cannot rely on me to keep you. Sometimes I think you want to ruin yourself.”
Again, Sir Rollin’s reply was an inarticulate murmur. But Joanna moved to the hall window in time to see Adrienne snatch her arm away from him and hurry to their barouche alone. Sir Rollin was laughing as he followed her.
Joanna was still thinking about this incident as she walked toward the vicarage at four. A host of new thoughts had been called up by her inadvertent eavesdropping, and she was not at all sorry to have overheard. Was Sir Rollin going to flirt with her? Was that why he did not go to Brighton and Miss Susan Chudley? The thought that the magnificent Sir Rollin Denby might make her the object of his attentions caused a flutter in Joanna’s breast.
And the notion that she had been expected to “make trouble” for Adrienne was also unsettling. It was clear now that the Denbys had known of her attachment to Peter. Joanna blushed as she thought of that. Then, her complexion returned to normal when she remembered what Adrienne had called her. A ninnyhammer, was she? An insipid child? She would show that horrid woman that she was no such thing. Perhaps she would make her brother fall in love with her, and forget the rich Miss Chudley. Joanna toyed with the picture of Sir Rollin smitten with love for her. A small smile played about her mouth.
These thoughts were interrupted by a shout from behind her, and Joanna turned to see a horseman coming across the fields. It was Peter, riding fast. In a moment, he had pulled up beside her. “Hullo, Joanna,” he said a little breathlessly.
“Peter.” It was less a greeting than a question.
“I hoped to catch you today. I know you often walk here. I haven’t had the chance before.”
Joanna frowned up at him.
Peter looked self-conscious. “That sounds odd, perhaps. I won’t try to explain. I’ve been, ah, busy lately.”
“Yes, with all the work on your house,” replied Joanna. She felt awkward with Peter for the first time in her life and hoped to steer the conversation onto commonplace topics.
But Peter said only, “Yes,” and sat on his horse looking down at her.
Joanna shifted from one foot to the other. She did not know what to say. Peter, the easy companion of her childhood, seemed almost a stranger suddenly. Yet, there was such embarrassment attached to his presence as would never have been associated with a stranger. Joanna looked up at him uneasily. Why did he not say something? Her brows drew together. Peter looked pale, and his light blue eyes held an unaccustomed hunted expression. The untidiness of his blond curls and the carelessness of his riding dress were highly uncharacteristic of the man who had been the neighborhood dandy since he was sixteen.
“Where are you going?” he blurted suddenly.
“To the vicarage, for tea.”
He nodded. Then, with a quick movement, he dismounted and looped his reins over his arm. “I’ll walk with you a bit.”
Joanna was disconcerted. “Oh, you needn’t; that is, it isn’t far. And I am late; I must hurry.”
Peter was looking at the ground. “That’s all right. I won’t keep you. But I want to speak to you, Joanna.”
There was nothing to be said to this, so they started off side-by-side. Peter said nothing more for a while. He seemed to be having difficulty with whatever it was he wanted to say.
Finally, when they were nearing the vicarage lane, he said, “Joanna, I meant to write to you. I really did. And I know I should have, but, well, what with one thing and another, I didn’t. I wanted to apologize to you for that. To tell you I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” murmured the girl, looking at the path.
“No, it isn’t. I behaved badly, and I know it. But things happened so quickly, you see, and I…well, that’s beside the point. I am sorry. I wanted you to know that. It’s what I tried to tell you at your mother’s party.” Joanna started to speak, but he shook his head. “You needn’t say anything. That’s all of it; I must get back.”
“I wish you happy, Peter,” blurted Joanna.
He had started to remount his horse, but now he turned back. “You’re a first-rate person, Joanna. I wish you the same. And I hope you…never mind.” He swung up onto his horse. “I’m not such a coxcomb as to say that I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ll just say again that I’m sorry.” And he turned his mount and rode off.
Joanna watched with wide eyes as he left. Peter had sounded so subdued and, not unhappy precisely, but pensive. He had not been at all this way in the past. What had been happening to make him seem so much older, she wondered?
Turning down the lane toward the vicarage, she continued to consider the conversation. She was not upset exactly, but she was preoccupied. She nearly walked past the Willistons’ garden gate and had to turn and retrace her steps to go in. Constance was there, reading, and she rose as soon as she saw Joanna. “Hello. You are just in time. I was about to get up.”
Joanna returned her greeting absently, and the two girls entered the house. The family was just sitting down to tea, and they joined them when Joanna had taken off her things. Conversation was lively during the meal; the young Willistons always had a great deal to say. But Joanna took little part in it. Twice, a remark addressed to her had to be repeated, and she lost the train of the talk even oftener.
When she and Constance went upstairs afterward, Constance asked bluntly, “What is the matter, Joanna?”
The younger girl looked at her. She wasn’t sure she should tell anyone about Peter’s apology. “What do you mean?”
Constance shrugged. “I do not mean to pry, and you needn’t tell me. But I can see that you have something on your mind. You’ve hardly said a word since you arrived.”
Joanna thought for a moment. She knew that Constance was trustworthy. And it would be comforting to talk over her experience with an understanding friend. Coming to a decision, she told the other girl the whole.
Constance was not surprised. “What he said was very proper. You deserved an apology. He might have done better just to write you in the first place, but as he did not, this was next best.”
“It was so odd,” said Joanna.
“It must have been.” The older girl looked at Joanna shyly. “I hope it was not too unpleasant. Your feelings for Peter…” At a loss for a way to finish, she stopped.
Understanding what she would say, Joanna nodded. “I have been thinking a good deal lately,” she replied. “And I do not think I ever really understood my feelings for him. We were always together, you see, and everyone had spoken of our marrying for so long that I simply took it for granted that I loved him.” She frowned. “And I did. But I begin to see that it was not the sort of love one feels for one’s husband.”
“He was like a brother, perhaps,” offered Constance. “I remember how you and he always played together.”
“Yes,” agreed Joanna, “I suppose he was. Gerald was always too busy for me, and Frederick was only a baby. Peter was more like my brother than they were.” Joanna smiled. “I was very foolish, I suppose. It was so pleasant being with Peter, I thought it would be just as nice being married to him. But I think now that marriage is not at all the same thing.”
Constance returned her smile. “I believe you are right. One wants quite a different sort of man for that.” She flushed. “Not different from Peter, I mean, but one about whom one feels differently.” She shook her head. “I am getting all muddled.”
“No, I know what you mean.”
The two girls’ eyes met, and they smiled again.
“So,” added Joanna, “it has not been so hard to see Peter as I imagined it would be. And I feel as if I had learned a great deal in the last few weeks. I feel years older.”
Constance laughed. “Practically thirty.”
“Did I sound so affected?” laughed Joanna. “Not thirty. Perhaps nineteen. Or even twenty.”
They laughed together.
“But all I want for Peter now is for him to be happy. I hope he is.” Joanna’s expression showed some doubt.
Constance nodded, having nothing to say to this.
Joanna took a breath. “Well, let us think no more about it now. Tell me, did you enjoy Mr. Erland’s picnic? Everyone is talking about it today.”
“They are indeed. The Townsends were here this morning. I had a lovely time. Did you?”
Joanna nodded. She considered telling Constance about finding the treasure note, then decided not to. She had promised Jonathan Erland that she would tell no one.
“I enjoyed myself immensely. Gerald took me all around the ruins and showed me the work they have been doing there. It is fascinating.” Constance smiled mischievously. “Have you heard that Mr. Templeton has been taking instruction in the use of a shovel?”
This diverted Joanna from her thoughts. “Instruction?”
Constance nodded, still smiling. “Yes. He has engaged a college gardener to show him the way of it.”
“No. You made that up to roast me. He can’t have.”
“But he has. And he is coming along very well, according to the last reports. He hopes to be able to join the digging quite soon.”
Joanna burst out laughing.
“Gerald says that it is an edifying sight, watching Templeton go at it in the flower beds below his chambers. Last Tuesday, he worked so hard he blistered his hands and had to have them wrapped in cotton and ointment by the housekeeper.”
Joanna laughed harder.
“He has said that when he masters the shovel, he means to go on to the trowel,” finished Constance.
“Stop, stop,” gasped Joanna. “It is all a hum, I know, but I cannot stand any more.”
“It is not a hum,” retorted Constance. “Gerald told me the whole; he has seen it.” She grinned. “I have never been so amused as when he described the flower beds.”
“Indeed not.” Joanna was trying to imagine her solemn brother telling such a story. “I wish Gerald might amuse me so. He never tells funny stories at home.”
Constance flushed a little. “Well, but I am sure, that is, he may not realize…”
Joanna smiled at her now. “He may not find the company so agreeable, I think.”
The older girl’s flush deepened. “Oh, I don’t…”
“Well, I do. It is obvious Gerald likes you, Constance.”
Constance raised anxious eyes to Joanna’s. “Do you think so? Truly?”
“Yes. And I am very glad of it, though how anyone can like Gerald I do not see.” She shrugged.
“But he is so brilliant, so knowledgeable, and with that so kind; I do not see how…”
“Enough!” cried Joanna. “Let us leave it that I am very glad.” She looked at her friend teasingly.
Constance flushed again, smiled, and looked down. “Of course, there is nothing in it. Sometimes, I think he likes me a little, but then, I am not sure. It is all uncertain.”
“Well, I have never seen Gerald so interested in anyone. And he has been visiting us much more often lately, you know.”
“Has he?”
The shy eagerness in Constance’s tone made Joanna smile again. “He has. You needn’t worry, Constance—I shall help you all I can. I should like it above all things to have you for my sister.”
The older girl’s eyes filled. “Thank you. But you will not do anything…”
“I shall be perfectly discreet.”
This made them both laugh.
“How odd it is,” continued Joanna, “to be thinking of Gerald in such a way. I cannot imagine wanting to marry someone like him.”
Constance grinned. “But we have already seen how one feels about brothers, have we not?”
Joanna laughed again. “We have. Do you feel the same about yours?”
“Absolutely. They are impossible creatures.”
“How lucky that we needn’t consider them,” Joanna laughed. “Oh, Constance, it is such fun talking with you. I have not laughed so much in weeks.”
The other girl’s smile faded. “Indeed, Joanna, I am so glad to have a friend in you. When I came back from school…” She paused.
Joanna flushed a little. She did not like to think of her earlier treatment of Constance.
“Well, I am just so happy to be friends,” added Constance in a rush.
“And I,” agreed Joanna.
They exchanged a smile.
“Come,” said Constance, “let us go and sit in the garden for a while. It is cooler there.” And the two girls walked downstairs together, very pleased with their new, closer relationship.