A Curious Courting (12 page)

“Most decidedly,” Rushton murmured.

“Hold on, I’ve seen you in London, ain’t I? Selina didn’t mention your name, just said you were a friend of Sir Penrith’s.”

“Gareth Rushton. And I assume you are Lord Benedict.”

“Rushton! Of course! I’ve seen you around and about for years. We’ve never met.” He offered his hand, which was accepted with some surprise by Rushton, who could not help but be startled by the glaringly yellow gloves Benedict wore. “I was on my way to speak with Selina. Not concluded the deal yet, have you?”

“Yes, I own the land now.”

“I will pay you double what you paid her. You can see that the vale belongs with my land. It was only her perversity which kept her from selling to me.” Benedict eyed his companion speculatively. “You are a man of property yourself, Rushton. Must understand how it is to have one little chunk cut out of the whole. A constant irritation, like an itch you can’t reach. Stand atop a rise and wave your hand about: All that is my land…except the little vale there which a stubborn chit owns and won’t sell to me. I tell you what we could do! Selina said you wanted to build a hunting-box, and I have a very handy piece of land the other side of Barton, a little larger than this, don’t you know? Perhaps fifty acres. We can exchange the two. Why not ride along with me and have a look at it? Repossessed it a year ago. Just an old farm. Easy enough to convert the farmhouse, or even tear it down. What do you say?”

“I am particularly attached to this piece of land, Lord Benedict, and you are forgetting Miss Easterly-Cummings’ right of first refusal.”

“Pay no heed to that. Selina wouldn’t go as high as I would for the land. Well, stands to rights she wouldn’t pay more to get it back than she just got for selling it, now would she?”

Rushton regarded the young man coldly. “I have no intention of selling the vale. The location is ideal for a hunting-box, and I have already engaged an architect. I can understand your irritation at having a small piece cut out from the rest of your lands, but it has obviously been so for some years, and I would advise accustoming yourself to the state of affairs on a permanent basis.”

“You might at least have a look at the farm,” Benedict grumbled. “Nothing wrong with it for a hunting-box. We could say you were paying more for it than you did for the vale, and everything would be right and tight. Selina don’t matter. We could make it an outrageous price that even she would hesitate to match for some long-past grudge. Serve her right for selling it under my nose. You’d get more land with the farm, and it could be productive during part of the year,” he suggested persuasively.

“Thank you, no, Lord Benedict.”

“Oh, very well,” the young man snapped as he swung himself onto his horse. “It’s all her fault, anyway. When she does something obnoxious, you may change your mind, just to put her in her place. I shall be prepared to buy the land at any time, or exchange it for the farm, so you need only send me word.” He gave an impatient nod, swung his horse about and galloped off, leaving Rushton with a very disagreeable taste in his mouth. Perhaps there had been some point to Miss Easterly-Cummings’ insistence on the contract after all. Certainly Lord Benedict had no qualms about acting unscrupulously where she was concerned. Odd behavior, for a couple who had once been engaged. No, perhaps not, when one considered that they had not in the end allied themselves with one another. It would be fascinating, Rushton thought, to know the history of that romance.

Since his pair was prancing impatiently, Rushton returned the deed to the leather pocket in the curricle, and released the reins from the rails. Penrith would probably have returned from hunting by this time, and there were a number of matters Rushton intended to discuss with him. He could not stay on at Oak Park indefinitely, in spite of Pen’s generous hospitality, and the Southwoods would be leaving for London in a few weeks, in any case. The best solution was to check out the accommodation at the local inn to see if he would be reasonably comfortable in a suite of rooms there for several months. The hunting season being near its conclusion, there would likely be rooms available, and decent stabling for his chestnuts and his hunters.

During the winter the village of Barton, serving the hunting community as it did, was prosperous. The Horse and Hound, set at the crossroads and opposite the green, was an ancient half-timbered hostelry which sprawled over a considerable area, its gables thrusting out in all directions, its leaded windows cheerfully distorting the view, and its chimney pots forever pouring billows of smoke into the gray afternoon sky. Rushton left his curricle and pair at the stables and entered through the old oak door with its brass fittings. Inside there was a buzz of activity, with laughter and voices issuing from the public rooms where welcome fires blazed on the hearths. The men grouped around were still in hunting coats, each with mug in hand trying to warm themselves while they recounted the day’s runs.

“Did ‘e wish to see the landlord?” asked a smiling serving girl.

“If I might,” Rushton replied as he was accosted by an acquaintance who laughed, “You missed a spectacular day, Rushton. I had thought to see you in the field. Sir Penrith was there.”

“A matter of business prevented me.” Rushton wondered momentarily if Miss Easterly-Cummings could not have arranged for a time to conclude the sale that did not conflict with a day’s hunting, but dismissed the thought as unworthy of himself. He was allowing the young lady to assume unnecessary proportions in his mind. If she had given a thought to the hour she appointed, it was probably only for Mr. Thomas’ or Lord John’s convenience.

“We had a run from Thorpe Trussels to Carr’s Brigg, then to Scraptoft Spinneys, back over Life Hill and Adam’s Gorse to Burrough Hill. Spanking pace the whole way; hardly lost sight of the fox the entire time. Never saw so many bullfinches and doubles, and, Lord, Assheton Smith took them all. Moreton’s horse ran away with him, but he put a stop to that by covering the beast’s eyes with his hands. Did the trick, I promise you. What a complete hand!”

Rushton smiled his approval, but changed the subject. “Are you staying here, Walters?”

“Yes, for another week at least.”

“Find it comfortable, do you?”

“I’ve seldom stayed at a better inn in the country, but I thought you were at Oak Park.”

“Oh, I am.” Rushton watched as a ruddy-faced, middle-aged man steamed out of the kitchen area and down the passage toward him. “If you will excuse me, Walters, I would have a word with the landlord.”

“Certainly. Perhaps you’ll join us later for a round.”

“Perhaps.”

When Rushton had explained his requirements to Mr. Evans, the innkeeper suggested a suite of rooms at the far end of the building that would be available shortly. “Much quieter there, sir; more like a private house. Has its own parlor, bedroom and a room for your valet. And no skimping on the service, mind. The bell rings in the kitchen as they all do, and I won’t tolerate any lagging on the way from my staff. Harder to keep the food warm, of course, but we’ve a right handy cart and everything covered. Or there are the private parlors off the hall here, if you should prefer. The rooms are empty right now. Would you like to see them?”

“Yes. You understand that I would require them for some time, while I oversee the construction of a house down the Ashfordby Road.”

Mr. Evans’ brow creased in a frown. “Had no idea there was any land down that way for sale. Mostly Shalbrook land and Lord Benedict’s. Pretty area, though.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be meeting Miss Easterly-Cummings,” the innkeeper declared proudly, as though he were presenting the village treasure to Rushton. Fine young lady. Made me a loan when we had a fire in this wing; no one else would, though I have no idea why not,” he said indignantly. “Everyone knows the Horse and Hound is a flourishing hostelry. It was summertime, though, when business is not as brisk, but never mind. Miss Easterly-Cummings has a fine head for business and she knows that Joe Evans repays his debts. It’s no small thanks to her that my children—all grown now, of course—have a village school for their own children. ‘Tweren’t a school at all when mine was little. Closest one was in Quorn, and times were harder then. Here’s the suite—all fresh and modern, as you can see. Completely rebuilt after that fire I mentioned. Miss Easterly-Cummings suggested putting in the water closet, and I had my doubts at the time. After all, we have a perfectly good privvy in the yard, and it means I have to charge a little more for the rooms, you understand. But it’s paid for itself a dozen times over, upon my word! You’d never credit what a demand there is for the conveniences.”

Rushton, who would have taken the rooms sight unseen had he known they possessed such luxury, resented the fact that Miss Easterly-Cummings had her finger in this pie as well. Could she not mind her own business? There was a note of sarcasm in his voice as he eyed the purple draperies and murmured, “Perhaps she suggested the decoration of the rooms as well.”

“Oh, no, sir, not on your life. Why, she’s a lady, she is. Wouldn’t interfere in the running of the Horse and Hound. My good wife is the one with the eye, I may tell you. Mrs. Evans said to me, ‘Now with everything so spanking new, we should just see that the gentry has suitably rich draperies in that wing, Joe.’ And you can see she’s done herself proud. Everyone thinks of royalty, they think of purple, don’t you see? Very clever of her, I thought, and the daughter is ever so handy with a needle that it was no sooner said than done. Well, what do you say?”

“I’ll take the rooms,” Rushton sighed, “in two weeks’ time for a period of six months or so.” He withdrew several bank notes from his pocket. “Will this suffice to hold them?”

Mr. Evans swallowed painfully as he accepted the money. “Ah, yes, that will be perfectly satisfactory, sir.”

When Rushton entered the tap room at the Horse and Hound a few minutes later, he was immediately offered a mug of steaming punch and numerous accounts of the day’s hunt. Thinking to at last escape any reference to the strange Miss Easterly-Cummings, he was brought up short as one of the gentlemen asked, “Do any of you know who that young lady we passed this morning was? The one in the scarlet mantelet trimmed with fur? Walters, you must remember her! You said at the time how striking she was. On the Ashfordby Road, in the phaeton. Had a lad with her, his arm in a sling. Didn’t he ride with us a few days ago? I seem to recall...”

“Yes, Sir Penrith brought him; mounted him on Trafalgar. What was his name, Rushton?” Walters asked.

“Henry Forrester.”

“Miss Forrester, then,” the first man suggested. “Does she live around here, Rushton?”

“She’s his cousin, not his sister.”

As the others waited expectantly, Rushton stared meditatively at his mug.

Exasperated, Walters prodded him. “Well, what’s her name? Does she live here? Is she married?”

“Her name is Easterly-Cummings and she owns a large estate on the Ashfordby Road. She is not married,” Rushton murmured with a shudder.

“An heiress,” Walters crowed. “Trust Rushton to meet an heiress. I tell you there is no justice in the world. It is Moreton or I who need an heiress, Rushton, not you. Besides, I thought you were all but leg-shackled to the Longmead beauty. Have a heart. Introduce us to Miss Easterly-Cummings.”

“Sorry, gentlemen. I fear I am in no position to introduce you to her. You must apply to Sir Penrith. He’s known her since she was in leading-strings, by all accounts.” Rushton set down his empty mug and rose. Having no desire to discuss either Miss Longmead or Miss Easterly-Cummings, he excused himself.

JOURNAL. February 26,1813. Purchased land on Ashfordby Road today from Miss E-C for one thousand pounds. Met Lord John Brindly, Cathford’s brother, and agreed to use him as architect on hunting-box. He is to come to Oak Park on Friday to discuss the plans. An agreeable young man.

The saloon at Oak Park bore all the signs of a very successful gathering. Knots of people gathered in various spots about the room, and the murmur of conversation was interspersed with laughter, while a plentiful supply of cakes and biscuits wafted their fragrance on the air. If the gentlemen present found the affair of afternoon tea insipid, they gave no indication of boredom, and the ladies, ever in their glory at such a function, sparkled under the attention they received by being well outnumbered.

Lady Southwood, on hearing that Lord John Brindly was to be visiting Oak Park, conceived the happy inspiration of inviting Miss Easterly-Cummings and her cousin, as well as several of the neighborhood families, to tea, and suggested to her son that he enlarge the gathering by including some of his hunting cronies. “For it is certain to be a good experience for Cassandra, Pen, before dumping her on London Society, to have met some of your friends. Just an informal gathering, you know, but Cassandra will benefit from the advantage of being on her home ground. You must realize that it is hard for her, being the last, and both of her sisters having been so successful. She’s a dear child and sure to be quite as well received as Maria and Jennifer, but you may be sure she has her doubts, and is alarmed at trying to live up to the model they’ve set her.”

Although Penrith had been dubious as to the success of this venture, he studied the scene before him with satisfaction. His sister, as Lady Southwood had predicted, was not in the least shy, but appeared to be enjoying herself enormously, surrounded by Lord John Brindly, Mr. Walters and two of her neighborhood friends. Not for the first time, Penrith regretted the dearth of young men in the area. Aside from Lord Benedict, who had not been invited, Henry Forrester was the only lad within any reasonable distance of Oak Park, and Henry was no more than sixteen. Still, Cassandra seemed comfortable in the gathering, with no sign of intimidation to daunt her lively conversation.

In yet another group, Henry Forrester listened avidly to Mr. Moreton describe his stroke of genius in handling his runaway horse. The tale was obviously directed to his cousin in hopes of stirring her admiration for the young man’s intrepid horsemanship, and Miss Easterly-Cummings appeared duly impressed. Since Rushton had not informed his host of Selina’s more conventional dress at the time of the signing of the deed, Penrith had been delighted to see her enter the room in a dove gray dress which, if not the height of fashion, became her. She was the object of considerable curiosity amongst his hunting friends, who found it difficult to believe that she was content to remain sedately settled in the country, unmarried, rich and attractive.