A Suspectible Gentleman Part 12

"And to keep household accounts," Lady Catherine added, eager to display yet one more talent. "Mama says they must be constantly checked or the servants and tradesmen will cheat without a second thought."

"I expect you know the price of flour, then."

"I know that it is a shocking price."

"Have you ever wondered why it is a shocking price, or how the poor pay that shocking price?"

"The poor are lazy good-for-nothings, or they would not be poor," p.r.o.nounced Lady Catherine. "They can always go to the workhouses and be fed at public expense."

Adam caught Sarah's reproving glance, shrugged his shoulders and allowed Mary to change the subject. After dinner, when the gentlemen joined the ladies, he went straight to Sarah's side.

"That was cruel," she chided, "to lead the poor girl on to make a cake of herself."

"It would have been cruel had Lady Catherine experienced the least chagrin," he corrected. "She did not. She was simply expressing her opinions."

"But if she had guessed how you despise her opinions!"

"I knew she would not. She is incapable of understanding compa.s.sion, and therefore cannot understand that a reasonable man might differ from her views."

"Does she know about your charities?"

"She has never mentioned them, though I am sure Mary must have told her. She probably regards my work as one of those inexplicable whims gentlemen are p.r.o.ne to, which must be excused in an otherwise eligible husband."

Sarah laughed. Before she could speak, Louise interrupted their tete-a-tete.

"Adam, we are arranging transport for tomorrow. Do you mean to drive yourself?"

"Yes, I shall take my curricle and stop at the vicarage to pick up Sarah. We shall soon catch up with the rest of you, so there will be no need to block the village street with our cavalcade while you wait."

Five annoyed pairs of eyes turned on Sarah. She suppressed a sigh as she realized that Adam was once again using her as a buffer. When Mr. Swanson begged her to indulge him in a game of chess, she went with him gladly.

"I cannot think why you want to play with me," she said as they set up the pieces. "You beat me with greater ease every time we play. Surely my game ought to improve with practice?"

"Does," said Lord James, pulling up a chair to watch. "Just that Swan's gets better faster."

"So you are just using me for practice!" Sarah pretended indignation.

"Kerry, you wretch, you have given away my secret. Shall you refuse to play with me now, ma'am?"

"No, for if Lord James is telling the truth, at least my game is improving a little."

"a.s.sure you, ma'am, wouldn't dream of lying to a lady!"

"And you need not fear that he was paying Spanish coin. Kerry wouldn't know a compliment if it bit him." The game proceeded with much laughter and Sarah forgot her annoyance with Adam.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Adam had warned Sarah to expect him half an hour after the announced time the next morning, for with seven ladies to coordinate there was no hope of punctuality. She was ready when he pulled up in front of the vicarage, and she hurried out before he climbed down. He reached down to help her up.

"My strictures on the unpunctuality of females were not intended to include you," he observed as he gave his team the office.

"I am the exception that proves the rule? How flattering!"

"You are an exception to many rules, Sarah."

"If that is a compliment, it is a sadly dubious one." She wrinkled her nose at him. "I can think of any number of rules I should not care to break."

"Name one."

"Oh, the one that says that wisdom comes with age, for instance."

"It is I who must hope to conform to that rule. I have told you before that you are already wise despite your youth, have I not?"

"Yes, when I refrained from interfering between Jane and Lord Bradfield. That was common sense. Your horses are sweet-goers! Look, there are the other carriages already."

"I could wish that you had kept me waiting," said Adam as Swan and Kerry reined in their mounts and fell in on either side of the curricle.

They had company all the way to Amesbury, but a mile beyond the town, Adam halted at a crossroad.

"We are going via the lanes," he told his friends. "Miss Meade has a fancy to take the ribbons, and the main road is too busy."

"Splendid notion, we'll come, too," said Mr. Swanson.

"No, you will distract her attention from the horses," said the viscount firmly. "You go on with the others-and we shall meet you at the King's Arms." He swung the curricle down the right hand lane.

"I never expressed a wish to drive your team," protested Sarah. "I should not dare!"

"Tell me that you have no desire to try, and I shall turn around and apologize to Swan and Kerry for misleading them."

"Of course I should like to try, if you think they are not too strong for me. But this is scarcely the best place. This road winds along the Avon."

"The first part is straight enough. As for the horses, they have excellent manners and if you somehow succeed in making them bolt, I am here to stop them."

"Wretch! I do not expect to make them bolt."

"Take my gloves. Yours are too thin for driving." The leather gloves still held the warmth of his hands.

Sarah made a determined effort to ignore the sense of intimacy which invaded her, and said with creditable lightness, "They are far too large. If I handle the reins clumsily, I shall blame it on them."

Concentrating on the horses, she forgot her momentary embarra.s.sment. They were a pleasure to drive, responding to the slightest touch, unlike Dapple who went his own pace no matter what he was told. She drove through the village of Great Durnford, then handed the reins, and the gloves, back to Adam when they reached the bends along the river.

It was a beautiful July day. The water meadows were lush and green, the hedgerows full of honeysuckle and travellers' joy. Sarah sat back, content to enjoy the peaceful scene, and a companionable silence fell between them.

The soaring spire of Salisbury Cathedral was already visible when they pa.s.sed a crossroad with a lane leading up the hill to their left.

"Have you ever been to Old Sarum?" Sarah asked. "I have pa.s.sed the turn a hundred times and never gone up."

"Jonathan and I went when we were boys, out riding. There is little to be seen but the ruins of the castle, and not much of that, though there is a marvellous view of the cathedral. Should you like to go now?"

"Another day. We must not keep everyone waiting. I am glad you let me take the reins, or I should not know how to face Kerry and Swan."

"Kerry and Swan? I had not realized you were on such terms with them." Adam's voice was austere.

"I do not address them so, but surely when I speak to you there can be no harm in calling them as you do."

"It is a deal too familiar," he snapped. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sarah. I do not mean to criticize. I am only concerned lest you be hurt, for those two are without a doubt the most confirmed bachelors on the town."

"I cannot see that that has anything to do with what I call them. You surely do not suppose that I expect an offer from either, let alone both." Sarah tried to turn his unexpected remonstrance into a joke. "Now your concern might be justified if I were to address his lords.h.i.+p as James, or Mr. Swanson as Frederick."

"You are right, I am building a mountain out of a molehill. Forgive me, and pray do not start to call him Freddy!"

When they reached Salisbury and rejoined the others, it was decided to tour the cathedral first. Preoccupied by the mystery of Adam's strange behaviour, Sarah followed the group around the cathedral without the least interest in what she was looking at. She knew the place well, knew in advance every spot where Lady Catherine would insist on stopping to sketch some point of particular importance. At last the artist was overruled by a majority who considered enough time had been spent there.

"There are many other interesting buildings in the town, from every period of history," said Louise firmly. "You can draw them while the rest of us look at the shops."

"I must take an impression of the entire cathedral from outside," Lady Catherine protested.

Even Mary objected to this. "It is far too large for a close view," she pointed out.

"Adam said there is an excellent view from Old Sarum," said Sarah without thinking.

Adam threw her a reproachful glance as Lady Catherine seized the excuse to hang on his arm and question him.

The gentlemen opted to retire for a tankard of ale at the King's Arms, the Tudor inn where Charles II's escape to France had been plotted.

"Thirsty work, looking at churches," Lord James confided to Sarah.

She nodded in agreement, for she would have been glad of a cup of tea, but the rest of the ladies were eager to investigate Salisbury's drapers and milliners and mantua-makers. With Adam gone, Lady Catherine lost interest in sketching, pa.s.sing the fourteenth century Old George Inn without a second glance. Sarah had no money in her purse and she soon grew bored. It was then she realized Lydia was missing.

"I expect she misunderstood our plans and went back to the King's Arms with the gentlemen," said Louise, when this was drawn to her attention. "Depend upon it, she is safe there with Adam." She looked complacent.

"I cannot be easy," Sarah said. "I shall go and make sure she is there."

The gentlemen were in the taproom, where Lydia would have been neither welcome nor comfortable. The innkeeper sent Adam out to Sarah, and they decided to go back to the cathedral, that being the last place anyone remembered seeing Miss Davis. Recalling her promise to Jonathan, Sarah felt guilty as well as worried and she rushed Adam through the busy streets and the quiet close.

Inside the cathedral the lofty nave echoed with the sound of choir and organ. Lydia was sitting near the back, a slight figure absorbed in the beauty of the music. Sarah had to touch her shoulder before she noticed them. It seemed sacrilegious to tear her away, but she followed them out quite willingly.

"I knew you would find me," she said. "I was not afraid. Mr. Meade told me he was ordained here, and then the choir started practising. I am sorry if I have caused any trouble."

Adam smiled at this disjointed speech and said gently, "I can quite understand how the music captivated you. I hope you will not be angry with us for interrupting."

"Oh no, my lord, how could I be? Lady Edward will call me a ninnyhammer for wandering off alone."

"I shall not let Louise abuse you," said the viscount gallantly. "We had best head back now, however, before she begins to worry." He offered an arm to each lady. "Tell us about the music."

As they walked back to the King's Arms, Lydia talked knowledgeably of Bach and Palestrina and Handel. The governess who had taught her to sing had often taken her to hear the choir and organ at Hereford Cathedral, near her home. Neither Sarah nor Adam had any great interest in church music but they listened indulgently. Sarah was delighted that at last Lydia was losing her nervousness.

Her animation died as soon as they joined the others, who were by now all gathered at the inn for luncheon. Flushed to the roots of her hair she apologized in a thread of a voice for boring his lords.h.i.+p with her prattle and fled to Louise's side. Sarah felt like shaking her.

After luncheon, they strolled by the river while Lady Catherine sketched the medieval bridges. She kept Adam at her side with a flood of questions about the town. He had learned quite a lot as a boy, from Sarah and Jonathan's father, but when he did not know the answers he made them up, growing more and more outrageous. Lady Catherine accepted his version of history without a blink, until he told her that James Wyatt had thrown cartloads of ancient stained gla.s.s into the city ditch during his renovation of the cathedral.

"You are hoaxing me, my lord," she accused with a roguish smile. "James Wyatt was a famous architect. I cannot believe that he was such a Philistine."

The story happened to be true, but Adam saw no need to enlighten her. He wanted to tell Sarah how he had played on Lady Catherine's gullibility, to hear Sarah laugh and scold him. He looked longingly after the rest of the party and heard not a word of Catherine's next speech.

"By all means," he said agreeably when he became aware that she was waiting for an answer. It seemed a safe enough comment, but over the next few minutes he realized that he had somehow promised to drive her home in his curricle by way of Old Sarum.

At first he was furious, but then he reconsidered. He had enjoyed the drive to Salisbury, yet the ominous knowledge of his betrothal to Vanessa Brennan had been with him all the way. It might be better to avoid being alone with Sarah until he had resolved that business, though how it was to be resolved he had no notion.

The rest of the party was walking back towards them. Adam suddenly wondered what Sarah would think when he announced that he was to take up someone else for the return journey. Her feelings, so often dismissed with a cavalier "Sarah won't mind," were now of the utmost importance to him. He decided to explain to her privately how it had come about.

"I shall tell your sister Mary our plan," said Lady Catherine, packing up her sketching materials.

That proposal suited him very well. Mary could inform the others when it became necessary, and in the meantime he would have a chance to mend his fences with Sarah. Then, when everyone met at Old Sarum, he would abandon Lady Catherine to her pencils and easel while he showed Sarah the castle ruins.

They all walked back through the busy streets to the King's Arms to drink tea before their departure. On the way, Adam saw Lady Catherine draw Mary a little aside from the rest and speak to her earnestly. He accomplished the same manoeuvre with Sarah, though their conversation was anything but earnest. As he expected, she laughed at him and then took him to task for misleading Catherine with his wild tales.

"But she is revenged," he went on. "During a moment's inattention, I was gulled into agreeing to drive her back to Cheve. You can imagine my mortification when I realized what she had asked me."

He thought Sarah's smile was a little strained, but she answered calmly enough, "No doubt Mary will be aux anges."

After tea, Adam's curricle drove first out of Salisbury. Lady Catherine encouraged the viscount to show his team's paces, and when they reached the turn to Old Sarum the other carriages were out of sight behind them. He would have waited at the crossroads, but she pointed out that the sooner they reached the ruins, the shorter time she would keep everyone waiting while she sketched. Surprised at her consideration, he turned off the main road, and a few minutes later they alighted at the top of the hill overlooking the city.

It was a bare and windswept place. That was one of the reasons, as Adam had truthfully told Catherine, the bishop's see had been moved to the valley in the thirteenth century. He tethered the horses to a bush, then they found seats on the fallen stones of the Norman castle. The view of the cathedral and chequerboard town was spectacular.

Lady Catherine set up her easel, while Adam waited impatiently for the others to arrive. Twenty minutes pa.s.sed, and there was no sign of the carriages. Adam paced restlessly, pausing at frequent intervals to gaze down the lane and check his pocket watch. His companion seemed wholly absorbed in her artistic endeavours.

"Where the devil are they?" he burst out at last.

"Oh, my lord!"

"I beg your pardon, but don't turn missish on me now! We have been here nearly an hour and it is scarce half a mile from the main road. They cannot have lost their way."

"Perhaps they missed the turning," suggested Lady Catherine with an agitated air, rising to her feet. "Or perhaps ... Surely not! Perhaps Mary misunderstood our intentions and they have gone back to Cheve House without us. Would that you had brought a groom, my lord! We have been alone together in this deserted place for so long, I fear that my reputation will be shockingly compromised."

"Fustian," said the viscount bracingly. "It is perfectly proper for a young lady to drive about the countryside with a gentleman in an open carriage."

"To be sure, if we had not strayed from the high-road. I dread to think what Papa will say when he hears of this. Papa holds himself very high, you know, and cannot abide the least suggestion of impropriety. Alas, he is all too likely to cast doubt upon your honour, my lord!"

The glimmering of an idea seized Adam. As well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Sarah, in one of her adorable flights of fancy, had accused him of wanting to set up his harem. Well, this was England, not Turkey, and n.o.body could force him to marry two females at once.

"The earl cannot doubt my honour if we tell him we are to be wed," he said with reckless abandon.