A Suspectible Gentleman Part 16

"Yes'm." His lords.h.i.+p grinned and obeyed.

The vicar was taller but narrower in the shoulders. Fortunately, he by no means favoured the extremes of fas.h.i.+on, preferring to be able to breathe in his coats, so Adam eased into one without splitting the seams. He had a nervous moment with the pantaloons, but the knit fabric allowed some leeway. He rolled up the bottoms of the legs and the cuffs of the sleeves, slipped his feet into a pair of carpet slippers and went down with his own sodden clothes to the kitchen.

"Soon dry 'em out, my lord," promised Mrs. Hicks. "Miss Sarah's in the parlour."

Sarah giggled when she saw him. "Tea or Madeira?" she offered. "It must be all of ten years since you borrowed Jonathan's clothes. I see you are quite different shapes now. I'm surprised you can move."

"I'm not sure I dare sit down." He lowered himself carefully onto a straight chair. "Madeira, please. You're a fine one to laugh, my girl, with flour all over your forehead. Kerry was here making gingerbread, was he?"

"And Swan, too." She took out a handkerchief and brushed at her forehead without much success.

Adam desperately wanted to help her, to take her chin in his hand and ... Cleaning the flour off her face was the last thing on his mind. He sat still.

She gave up the attempt and pa.s.sed him his gla.s.s of wine. "I must look a shocking mess," she said.

"That makes it even funnier."

"Do you mean to share the joke, or shall you sit there tantalizing me with your chuckles until I beg for mercy?"

"I ought not to tell you, but I know I can trust you to keep it to yourself. I received two proposals of marriage over the kitchen table."

Expecting to laugh, Adam was overtaken by unreasoning fury. "Which did you settle for?" he asked

stiffly. "Good looks and a t.i.tle and no brains, or wits and money and no looks?"

"Who am I to demand perfection? That was unkind, Adam. They are your friends, or I should never have mentioned it. I am very fond of both of them, whatever their shortcomings."

"Fond!"

"In fact, I was tempted to accept them both, just to discover what is the attraction in being betrothed to

several people at once, but it was a trifle awkward with both of them there."

Adam felt his cheeks grow warm but for the moment he ignored her deliberate provocation. "You mean they both proposed at once?"

"Heavens, no. They had tossed a coin, I collect, for the right to go first, and Kerry won. You can

imagine that in such a predicament the poor fellow found himself tongue-tied even with me. He begged Swan to speak for him."

"And Swan obliged?" He was beginning to see the amusing side of the situation.

"He declined, on the grounds that they were rivals. Kerry stammered through a proposal, Swan

followed with a polished bit of oratory, and Kerry congratulated him on his way with words. Whereupon I refused their kind offers and we finished making the gingerbread."

"A remarkable scene," he said, grinning. "I wonder you managed to keep your countenance."

"It was funny, but it would have been too shabby in me to have laughed. It was touching, too."

"Not to mention flattering! Of all my acquaintance I'd have wagered those two were the least likely to risk their heads in parson's mousetrap. And the more flattering when you had flour all over your face at the time."

Sarah's smile was wry. "I believe they, like you, felt that there was safety in numbers. I do not doubt their sincerity, but how could I accept one and refuse the other?"

"Did you want to accept one of them?" Adam hoped his dismay was not obvious.

"Oh no, both or neither. With your example before me, how could I be satisfied with less?"

"I a.s.sure you, the joys of being popular with the opposite s.e.x are grossly exaggerated. In future I shall be faithful to one."

"I am glad, for Lydia deserves it."

Adam was in no position to explain that Miss Davis was not the female he meant to be faithful to, for he had no idea how to escape that entanglement. Then he recalled Jonathan's spirited defence of the girl, and her ease in the vicar's company. His usual optimism rea.s.serted itself.

"Sarah, will you do me a favour? Lydia and I ought to be better acquainted before our engagement is announced, but if she stays on at Cheve, we might as well put a notice in the Gazette. Besides, Mama has a notion to go home with Louise to see her grandchildren. It is odd, incidentally, that she is so little downcast by the apparent failure of her plan to find me a bride! She keeps muttering that she knew my sisters would never find anyone suitable and she hopes my eyes have been opened. What do you suppose she means by that?"

"I've no idea. What is this favour you wish to ask of me?"

"You like Lydia, do you not? I am sure she considers you her friend. Will you invite her to stay here at the vicarage for a week or two?"

The bleak look that crossed her face almost made him retract his request. He chose instead to regard it as encouragement, for why should she look like that if she did not love him, despite his peccadilloes? What a fool he had been all these years!

"Very well," she said at last in a flat voice. "I shall write her a note at once and you can carry it with you when you leave. Help yourself to wine while I am gone."

Already hurrying towards the door, she did not see Adam's tender smile. He had a lowering feeling that there were tears in her eyes and he cursed himself for a brute, but he was determined to encourage an attachment between Jonathan and Lydia. It was the only glimmer of hope he had seen.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Lydia Davis moved from Cheve House to the vicarage on Monday morning, when the rest of the guests departed. A groom sent to her parents had returned with their permission for her to prolong her absence.

"They are happy that I have made such amiable and respectable friends," she told Sarah.

"I confess I am slightly surprised that they do not object to your removing from a n.o.bleman's mansion to a humble country vicarage. No doubt they are aware that you will continue to see Adam here. You did not tell them of your betrothal?"

"No, Lord Cheverell asked me to keep it secret a little longer. Do you not think a secret betrothal romantic? I daresay Mama and Papa guess that I will see him, but you must not think that they are excessively proud. Though they will be pleased if I marry a viscount, they both said before I left home that it is more important that I should be happy, as they are. What a charming room."

She was genuinely delighted with the tiny back bedchamber looking over the garden. It had been Sarah's as a child, and was decorated in faded chintz flower prints. A bowl of clove pinks on the dressing table scented the air.

"It is fortunate that you did not bring an abigail," said Sarah, "for I should not know where to put her."

"Lady Edward's dresser helped me at Cheve, and Mama's Darwin does at home, but I shall do very well without."

"My chamber is just across the landing there." Sarah pointed out the door. "You must call me if you need a.s.sistance with b.u.t.tons and Nell will take care of your clothes. I hope you will enjoy your stay with us."

"I am looking forward to it. You will allow me to help you with your ch.o.r.es, will you not? And I should like to go with you on parish visits, if it will not disturb people. I always go with Mama to visit the tenants and the cottagers."

Sarah was surprised at this request, but she soon discovered that Lydia's ethereal romanticism hid a strong streak of practicality. She had been brought up with a thorough understanding of housekeeping and was willing to turn her hand to any task. What was more astonis.h.i.+ng, the timidity so evident in her dealings with her equals vanished in the presence of her inferiors in station. Not that she treated them with condescension; on the contrary, she chatted happily with farmers' wives, sympathized sincerely with the aching bones of the elderly and, above all, adored the children.

"I need not be always on my guard against making mistakes," she explained when Sarah expressed her surprise. "Like you and Mr. Meade, they understand that I mean well and they will not look down their noses at me if I curtsy to the wrong person first or have a hole in my glove. When shall you open your school?"

"I have not thought of it in an age." Sarah found it difficult to summon up any interest. "If Jonathan takes the position in Salisbury, I cannot run a school here. It is better that I do not raise any hopes until I know whether it will be possible."

"In Salisbury!" Lydia looked aghast. "You are going to live in Salisbury? I did not know it. I thought when Lord Cheverell and I are married, you would always be close by."

"It is not settled yet. I daresay we might as well go and look at the church hall here to see what would be needed to turn it into a schoolroom."

The church hall was a plain flint-and-stone building used for harvest home suppers, Christmas a.s.semblies and wedding breakfasts. Its windows were high under the eaves, its walls whitewashed and somewhat grubby. Lydia looked round and immediately began to plan new, colourful paint, pictures on the walls, desks and benches and a stove for cold days.

"You must talk to Adam about it," Sarah advised her.

"To Adam? I had thought Mr. Meade..."

"Adam has promised his support. Since he will be paying the bills, it is only right that he should be consulted."

"Yes, of course." Lydia's enthusiasm subsided.

Jonathan had accepted the news of their unexpected guest without protest, and at first had gone out of his way to make her feel at home. When Sarah described the girl's eager and practical involvement in household and parish duties, he pointed out that he always said they were underestimating Miss Davis. However, after the first few days he seemed to be avoiding her, spending more time than usual away from home and shutting himself in his study for hours at a time. He always joined the ladies for a while in the evenings, though, and they often sang together. Lydia's pure voice was a source of never-ending delight to both the Meades.

Sarah attributed her brother's preoccupation to the difficulty of deciding the future course of his life, for the acceptance or refusal of the cathedral position amounted to no less. Adam's absence was more puzzling. After escorting his betrothed to the vicarage he was not seen for a week, which was not, as Sarah told him when at last he did put in an appearance, the way to get to know her better.

"I am being tactful," he said.

"Tactful! I do not call it tactful to persuade me to invite her and then to vanish from the face of the earth!"

"Not from the face of the earth, only from this vicinity. Peggy's Billy returned last Sat.u.r.day, did he not, for the reading of the banns? I prefer not to meet him before that knot is tied."

"Yes, he is back. Jonathan found him lodgings with one of the farmers. I must go and see Peggy again to make sure she has everything she needs for the wedding. In the circ.u.mstances, it must be a quiet affair, but you will attend, will you not?"

"Do you think I should? I own it will be a pleasure to witness that happy ending. Peggy is still living with the witch? Amazing."

"You cannot suppose she would be cowed by a sharp tongue after the adventures she has survived. Goody Newman dotes on her, as a matter of fact. Lydia and I called at the cottage last week and the old woman has never been better cared for."

"Lydia has not been a burden to you, I hope."

"She is the sweetest-natured creature, and most helpful besides. She will make you a good wife, Adam."

Despite this a.s.surance, it was noticeable that Lydia reverted to her formal manners in Adam's presence, though she seemed less shy of him than before. He treated her like a delicate piece of valuable porcelain. Sarah saw this as a sign of his growing love, but she thought it quite the wrong approach. Lydia viewed Adam as a romantic and unapproachable hero, while he considered her to be fragile and helpless. Neither had the least notion of the other's real character.

While Sarah was still wondering whether it was her duty to try to rectify their distorted visions, or whether that would be unconscionable meddling, Adam departed again. Lord Lansdowne had invited him to Bowood for a few days, he said. It was an opportunity not to be missed.

Several days of rain intervened and it was not until two days before Peggy and Billy's wedding that Sarah and Lydia set off in the gig for Goody Newman's cottage. They had used the time to make the bride a couple of dresses for a wedding present. Peggy was delighted with the pretty sprigged muslins, and declared she would save them for Sunday best.

"Ye'd do better to stay put wi' me, my girl," muttered the old woman. "Men's no good, the lot on 'em. On'y one thing on their minds. What'll I do wi'out you?"

"I'll find someone else to take care of you," Sarah soothed her.

"One o' them useless village hussies, eh, miss? Or be there another o' his lords.h.i.+p's doxies willing to do for a pore ol' creetur? By all accounts, he c'd staff a mansion wi' his cast-off harlots. Reg'lar rakeshame, his lords.h.i.+p, fer all his winning ways."

"Now, Goody, don't you go talking like that afore the ladies," Peggy admonished.

It was too late. Lydia stared in horrified fascination at Peggy and asked, "You were Lord Cheverell's mistress?"

Peggy and Sarah exchanged a glance and Sarah shrugged her shoulders. Everything was known in the

village and sooner or later the truth would out. It would be much worse for Lydia to hear about it after she was married.

"That I were, miss," Peggy confirmed, "and proud of it."

"What'd I say," grumbled Goody Newman. "All arter the same thing, men."

Sarah decided that was enough of the subject and she began to discuss the arrangements for the

wedding. As soon as everything was settled, she and Lydia left. Lydia was looking rather dazed and had not opened her mouth since Peggy's revelation. As Dapple picked his way down the gra.s.sy track, Sarah braced herself for the questions she was sure would follow.

They had nearly reached the vicarage before Lydia turned to Sarah. "What did she mean about ... about staffing a mansion with..." Her voice trailed away.

"My dear, all young gentlemen have lady friends."