A Curious Courting Read online

  “I dare say she has them in wool, too,” her mother replied shortly with a reproachful look at her youngest.

  When no more information on Miss Easterly-Cummings appeared to be forthcoming, Mr. Rushton excused himself to find the master of the house. He had a few choice words to say to Sir Penrith.

  Chapter 3

  “I did not find it at all amusing to look such an idiot, my dear Pen,” Rushton explained to his friend, who was regarding him with innocent eyes. “At first I took Miss Easterly-Cummings for some sort of companion. After all, who would dream that an excessively wealthy young woman would dress as she does?"

  “Did you think a companion would dress like that?"

  “Frankly, I have not the least idea how companions dress, and I have no desire to learn. She was dowdy, Pen; no, more than that—she was absurd."

  “Well, I did hint that she was unusual, did I not?"

  “You allowed me to think she was an old dragon,” Rushton said grimly. “What chance was I to have of buying her land after such a faux pas?"

  “You had no chance from the start, Gareth,” Sir Penrith told him patiently. “I tried to warn you. Benedict has been after the land for years to tie it in with his estates, and Selina will have none of it."

  “You did not precisely tell me that."

  “Well, perhaps not, but I told you it wasn't for sale, didn't I? You were not in a mood to listen to me yesterday, if I recall correctly."

  A wide grin eased the gloom of Mr. Rushton's face. “So that is what you were paying me back for. I wondered about it most of the way home.” His face became serious as he stretched out his legs. “You must not think that I do not value your advice, my friend. I do. But in this matter I shall have to take my own counsel. Can you bear with me?"

  “Why, of course. You know I have only your best interests at heart. We won't discuss the matter again."

  “Thank you.” Rushton draped one leg over the other and stared thoughtfully at the grate. “What I would like your advice on is how to convince the eccentric Miss Easterly-Cummings to sell me that piece of land."

  “Devil take you, Gareth! I thought we had just established that she did not wish to sell the land."

  “True. She does not wish to sell it and she has no need to sell it. Now we have to decide how to convince her to sell it, all the same."

  “You know, I think your mind has snapped!"

  “Not at all. I am set on having that piece of property. Tell me about Miss Easterly-Cummings. What does she do? Who lives in the house with her? Is she a recluse? Yesterday you called her the source of all good works in the neighborhood. What did you mean?"

  Sir Penrith paced up and down the room for a while before speaking. “I won't have you harass her, old fellow. She's a family friend—my sister Maria's boon companion, a few years back. And though Selina is an oddity these days, you should have seen her when she was younger. Sparkling with vitality, full of fun, dressed to the nines. Outshone anyone else in the area. A bit after her father died, all that changed. She stopped attending parties, very seldom came to call, stayed mostly at Shalbrook. But she is not inactive. Her interests simply seemed to alter. In many ways your assumption yesterday was correct. Oh, not that she lords it over the lesser folk and dispenses moral platitudes. Her father was active in the community— first to employ new methods of farming, supported the local charity school, saw that the indigent were employed on his estate, whether he really had work for them or not. Selina has taken over those responsibilities, and more."

  “I don't suppose there was ever any question of her marrying, considering the way she dresses,” Rushton mused.

  “Well, there you are wrong. Before her father died, she and young Benedict were thought to be planning a match of it. But Benedict had joined up and was off in the Peninsula. When he returned, nothing came of it, and that was a few years ago. Lord, she was the belle of all the assemblies when she was eighteen. If her father hadn't died, she would probably have had a London Season, and I don't doubt it would have been very successful. As to that, my mother offered to bring her out when the mourning period was past, but Selina refused."

  “And she lives alone in that mausoleum?"

  “No, she has a young cousin living with her. A boy of fifteen or sixteen, I should think. No companion any longer, but an army of servants. She's as good as her father was about seeing that there's no one on the poor roles, and supplying aid to the needy and sick. I won't have you harass her,” he repeated.

  “I don't harass girls,” Rushton said bitterly.

  “I say,” Sir Penrith protested, “I didn't mean that you would purposely do so. It's just ... well, Selina is not a neighborhood joke, or anything of that nature. She's respected, you see, in spite of her ... oddities. Everyone sort of looks out for her. No, that is not precisely what I mean, because she's perfectly capable of managing for herself."

  “She's the good fairy hereabouts,” Rushton suggested.

  “Oh, it's more than that. She's our own special achievement ... No ... Well, dash it, we're all fond of her."

  “Like the village idiot."

  Sir Penrith turned blazing eyes on his friend. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with Selina's intellect. And I for one do not believe the theory that she was emotionally disturbed by her father's death. Or that of her other relations. A whole pile of them were killed in a coaching accident on their way here to Mr. Easterly-Cummings’ funeral. Very shocking, bound to be! But Selina has all her wits about her. And she didn't stay in mourning longer than usual. Well, as to that, it's a little hard to say, because after then she began to dress like she does now. But there was none of that hair-tearing, weepy-eyed grief about her. Didn't throw herself in the grave, or bring flowers to the tombstone every day. You know the kind of thing I mean."

  “Yes."

  “What I mean to say is ... Well, she's just like everybody else, really."

  Reviewing his interview with the young lady, Rushton could not agree, but he said nothing as he rubbed a hand thoughtfully across his chin. There was, perhaps, the grain of an idea in what Sir Penrith had told him. “Is there much unemployment hereabouts?"

  “Not if Selina can help it, but a lot of folks won't go to her when they know she doesn't really need any extra workers. Oh, she'd take them on all right, but there are those who consider that charity. We're like every other county in England, Gareth. The enclosures have displaced a lot of people. Some go to the towns, but others try to eke out an existence here as best they can. Sometimes it's pathetic."

  “I imagine your new stables gave some much-needed employment."

  Sir Penrith flushed. “Yes, well, the old ones really had seen better days."

  “No doubt.” Rushton smiled as he rose. “Building an entire house, with a modest stable, would surely provide even more employment."

  An appreciative gleam lit Sir Penrith's eyes. “You know, you might just have something there."

  “Will you come with me this time? She may not let me in again without reinforcements.” When his friend hesitated, he murmured, “And you could see for yourself that I did not harass her."

  “Oh, very well. But not today. I want to have a look at that hunter Prester has for sale."

  Henry Forrester absently gazed out the window of the study over a new fall of snow. Although his translation of Homer was going well, he could not keep his mind on it. Not an hour past he had watched the Quorn pass, the hounds in full cry, the scarlet coats of the gentlemen blazing against the sparkling white of the hills and valleys. To be out there with them! The study suddenly seemed cramped and over warm. Nothing would do but to be out of doors, and yet the vicar was expected within the hour to go over his work with him, and lay out his course of study for the next week. Selina would be disappointed if her cousin failed to meet the old man's exacting requirements. Not that she would say anything; she never did, except for praise. Still, it was a burden to Henry, one which he gladly assumed in exchange for her perpetual good na
ture and unfailing care of him. The trouble was that she took too great care of him!

  “Daydreaming, Henry?” Selina asked, amusement making her eyes sparkle.

  He started up from his chair. “I didn't hear you come in. Do you think the vicar will make it with all this snow?"

  “Oh, undoubtedly. It has never deterred him before. A more persistent man I have never met.” Selina studied his averted face. “Henry, if you wish me to ask him to ease the pressure on you, I will gladly do so. You know how it is with Dr. Davenport. Once he realized your capabilities, he determined to push them to the limit. But, really, there is no reason for you to spend all your time working. I dare say you will be far better prepared for Cambridge than any of the boys from Eton or Harrow at the rate you're going. Dr. Davenport is using you, in a way."

  “How so?” he asked curiously.

  “He will be able to point to you as his prize pupil. That is very flattering to a man of his age and dignity, I think. Can you not hear him at his dinner table, sipping at his port with his friends from the next parishes? ‘My dear fellows, I taught that young man everything he knows. He has a brilliant future! Brilliant!’ And then he will quote how many lines you have translated this week, and how perfectly you did them. And voilà, his prestige is greatly enhanced—as you and I know that none of the others have such a rising star.” She smiled and linked her arm with his, and they walked over to the window. “When he leaves today, I have a surprise for you."

  In spite of Henry's belief that he had long since outgrown childhood, that he was indeed as she had referred to him—a young man—his eyes lit with enthusiasm. “Do you mean to tell me now what it is?” he demanded.

  “Hmm. I have not decided. Now I wonder, would you be more attentive to Dr. Davenport if you knew beforehand, or if you had to wait to find out?"

  “Well, it stands to reason, Selina, that now you have told me there is a surprise, you must also tell me what it is. Otherwise, I shall fidget throughout the entire lesson trying to guess. On the other hand, if I know, I shall do my best to please Dr. Davenport, because he always leaves sooner if I am well prepared."

  “Do you think so? No, I cannot believe it would be wise. If you know the surprise, you will be eager to be done with the lesson and will probably rush through it. And you know how Dr. Davenport detests undue haste.” She eyed her cousin mischievously.

  “If you don't tell me, you wretched girl, I shall toss your beloved cap on the fire,” Henry proclaimed sternly as he whisked the offensive item off her brown curls and held it out of her reach.

  Selina sighed with mock gravity. “Very well, you undisciplined boy. Return my cap and I shall tell you."

  “Oh no. Tell me and then I shall return your atrocious cap."

  “Don't you trust me? Despicable child! What have I done to deserve such ingratitude?” she asked dramatically, a tear forming in her eye.

  “You know, Selina, you really should go on the stage. Your talent is wasted on me. Tell me this instant or your cap becomes a cinder.” He made as if to toss it on the blazing logs, and she squealed, unable to wrest it from his grasp.

  “I have had an old sledge repaired for us! Now give me my cap!"

  “A sledge!” Henry unconsciously retained his grip on the cap, staring at his cousin with wonder. “One pulled by horses?"

  “Yes, of course. I thought you would enjoy trying your hand at just such a new game.” Selina pried his fingers from the crumpled cap and attempted to smooth it out. “Now look what you've done! I shall look a fright in it."

  “You always do, anyway,” he retorted. “Let me buy you a real bonnet, Selina. One with ostrich plumes that you can tilt at an angle. It would do wonders for your appearance.” At her glare, he laughed. “Never mind. I can hardly wait to try the sledge. Will you be ready the minute Dr. Davenport leaves?"

  “I shall invite him for a cup of tea before he meets with you. That way you will have longer to prepare, and we can be away as soon as you've finished,” she promised.

  “You're a love, Selina. I give you my word I'll not botch the lesson. And thank you.” With an affectionate tug at her curls, he determinedly pushed her toward the door, his restlessness forgotten in the excitement of the new sport.

  Selina sighed when the door closed behind her. For the moment he would be satisfied with the sledge; it would be a unique demand on his driving skills and would no doubt prove diverting. Were all sixteen-year-olds so eager to throw themselves into every kind of amusement, she wondered, as she paced about the drawing room. For five years Henry had been content, more or less, to attend to his studies, interspersed with picnics and rides, walks and shooting. Now it seemed that every day he grew more restless and less content to lead the quiet life she had worked so hard to achieve for him. Selina agonized over what was best for the boy, and yet there was really no one to turn to with her problems. Dr. Davenport would merely counsel more studies, she felt sure, and Lord Leyburn would as soon swoop down and pluck her cousin from her household as discuss the matter with her. No, it was something she would have to handle from day to day, and pray fervently that Henry did nothing in his youthful exuberance which would come to his guardian's ever-receptive ears.

  An interview with Dr. Davenport was not Selina's idea of the supreme pleasure of the week. He entered the drawing room with his grave smile, the white hair standing out from his head after the removal of his voluminous scarf. Try as she might, Selina could never remain in conversation with him long without finding her eyes drawn irresistibly to the snowy tufts of hair which sprouted from his enormous pink ears. As much as she might joke with her cousin about the people they met, she had never revealed her acute fascination with this aspect of the divine's appearance. Somehow it seemed sacrilegious to poke fun at any element of the worthy old gentleman, deserving of it as he might often be with his pompous attitude.

  “It has been a long winter, Dr. Davenport,” Selina at last commented, “and I fear Henry is a bit bored with being house-bound. I do not blame him! I myself cannot like spending so much time indoors as we have been forced to do for the last few months. Perhaps, too, he is working too hard at his studies. I am aware,” she hastened to add, forestalling his protest, “that you have made incredible progress with him and mapped out a commendable course of study from which he will benefit all his life, and most certainly when he goes to university. I fear, however, that he is feeling the pressure somewhat, and wondered if you might ease your requirements for a few weeks—just until he is feeling more ... amenable, you understand."

  Dr. Davenport regarded her with a sad smile. “My dear Miss Easterly-Cummings, you are as aware as I of Lord Leyburn's instructions. He wishes his ward to be ready for university within the next eighteen months. That is no small undertaking! Lord Leyburn himself has agreed to my course of study, I must tell you, for I sent him a prospectus and he returned it with his approval.” The vicar did not mention that his lordship's comment had been a boldly scrawled “Very well, get on with it!"

  “Yes, yes, I fully understand,” Selina said somewhat impatiently; any talk of Lord Leyburn made her impatient. “But Henry has not had a break in his studies since our holiday last summer. Surely you must agree that a child's mind needs a rest from such matters occasionally. Why, if he were at school right now he would enjoy several weeks vacation from time to time. Dr. Davenport, the poor boy was translating Ovid on Christmas!"

  “Very well, Miss Easterly-Cummings. For the next two weeks I will give him only half of the usual allotment of work, but, mind you, it is against my better judgment.” His face set rather grimly. “I would not wish to incur Lord Leyburn's displeasure over this matter. If you wish for a longer respite for your cousin, you must write to Lord Leyburn yourself and suggest it. I doubt he would agree."

  Selina doubted it, too, but she smiled graciously. “Thank you, Dr. Davenport. I am sure Henry will benefit from the change, and probably will attack his studies with renewed vigor for the relaxed interval."

&nb
sp; “Let us hope so."

  When the vicar had completed his lessons with Henry, and the front door had snapped shut behind his retreating back, Selina found herself caught up in a bear-hug by her cousin. “Dear Selina, lovely Selina, you have worked a miracle! The old goat has given me only a half load for this next week!"

  “Henry Forrester, I did not go to all this trouble to have you acting like a spoiled brat. ‘Old goat’ indeed! I have half a mind to call him back this minute and see that he doubles your usual work."

  “No, no, please don't. My most profuse apologies. Didn't mean a word of it,” her cousin gasped, appalled. “I am just so very grateful, and he is overbearing, Selina, you know he is. Am I forgiven?” He bowed his head in mock contrition, but watched her impudently the while.

  “Oh, Henry, what am I to do with you?” she asked in a despairing voice, wringing her hands.

  “There you go again. We should have a large house party and put on a play so that you could exhibit your talents. I won't call him an old goat again, I promise."

  “No,” she murmured, “next time it will probably be worse."

  “I have no doubt you call him worse in your mind,” he retorted. “Selina, may we try the sledge now?"

  “Yes, you unconscionable puppy, anything to get me away from the house.” She shook her head at his delighted grin. “I want you to know, Henry, that Dr. Davenport agreed to reduce your studies for only two weeks. After that you're on your own again, I fear."

  “Two weeks seem like a lifetime right now, Cousin. And with the sledge, why, who knows? We shall have any number of larks."

  Chapter 4

  Selina was destined to share a “lark” with him in no less than an hour's time. Muffled up to her eyes with scarves against the bitter wind which had started to blow across the fields, she was in no position to restrain her cousin's enthusiasm with this new mode of transportation. While no one would ever have labeled Henry a cautious driver, he was no daredevil, either, as a rule. Perhaps the freedom of being able to drive the sledge over the fields, rather than keeping to the snow-covered lanes, went to his head. Or maybe it was simply the sense of release from the crushing burden his studies usually presented that made him oblivious to any dangers hidden beneath the cushiony-looking white mounds. In any case, he was inspired by the sight of two riders on the road to set up a race. With a jaunty wave of his hand, he challenged them. Far too distant to call out his intention, it was yet perfectly clear to the riders.