“You know, Gareth, I am beginning to believe that you are purposely trying to annoy me. What have I done?”
“Nothing, I assure you. Do you mind taking the long way about? If you are in a hurry to return to the Park, I can ride over the south road by myself. You need only say so.”
Sir Penrith surveyed Rushton’s enigmatic face with exasperation. “Oh, very well, but I don’t see what good it will do.”
“Good? Well, for one thing it will give us a longer ride, but I personally am looking for nothing but variety in my route.”
A snort escaped Sir Penrith as he put his heels to his black stallion. Being a very easygoing person himself, he generally had no difficulty in getting along with his acquaintances, but the perversity Rushton was showing this afternoon was another matter entirely. In fact, for the entire two weeks he had been a guest at Oak Park, he had not been himself. Oh, he was as pleasant as ever in company, but when the two of them were alone, he withdrew into himself. Brooding, that’s what he’s doing, Sir Penrith decided, totally unfamiliar himself with that state of mind. The sun always shone on Sir Penrith, or so one would assume from his perpetually optimistic outlook on life. Short in comparison to his friend, and tending to be stocky, yet his cheerful countenance and masses of flaming auburn hair met with approval everywhere. He did not perhaps inspire the ardor of so many young ladies as his friend, but he was welcomed everywhere for his good nature and courteous manners.
Penrith had a good mind to tell Gareth that if Miss Longmead would not have him, there were plenty of others who would. And better ones, in Penrith’s humble opinion. For he was secretly pleased that Miss Longmead had refused his friend. Certainly she was possessed of a rather astonishing elegance, but he could not feel that there was any warmth of heart to back it up, and for all his own polish and address Rushton was a surprisingly sensitive man with strong loyalties. Yes, that was the thing to do, Penrith decided. Point out to him that there were any number of ladies who would welcome his attentions. No matter that Rushton would ignore him; the seed once planted would surely blossom into the fruit Penrith most desired—that his friend would appear in London for the Season, and in a more cheerful frame of mind.
Before Penrith could speak, Rushton turned to him abruptly, his face transformed from moodiness to sharp interest. “That parcel of land there. The one set off by the hedgerows in the vale. Who owns it?”
Bewildered, Penrith followed the line of Rushton’s pointing finger. “Must be Lord Benedict’s land; all of it is on this side of the road. No, hold a moment. I remember that vale, caused quite a stir years ago. The present viscount’s father lost it on a wager to Mr. Easterly-Cummings. Some sort of row over a document Easterly-Cummings found which showed it deeded to his father. The old viscount wouldn’t credit it, so they settled the matter with the turn of a card. It’s surrounded on all sides by Benedict land, but I hear on good authority that the deed was valid.”
“So a Mr. Easterly-Cummings owns it now?”
“Well, no, he had his notice to quit years ago. Must belong to his daughter, unless the present viscount bought it from her. Wouldn’t think so, though, the way it’s still set off from everything around it.”
“That’s the piece of land I want,” Rushton said firmly.
“But, good Lord, man, it ain’t for sale. Miss Easterly-Cummings don’t need the money; her old man left her pots of it. That whole valley over there,” he waved impressively to the other side of the road, “belongs to her.”
“She isn’t doing anything with the vale. I see no reason why she shouldn’t sell.”
Penrith laughed. “I’d love to be there when you tell her so.”
Suspicious, Rushton asked, “Why? What’s she like?” It would have been a little difficult for Penrith to give an accurate idea of Miss Easterly-Cummings, and suddenly he was far from desiring to do so. His feelings were hurt that Rushton would not listen to or confide in him, and it seemed a vastly amusing plan to mislead his friend ever so slightly. “She’s the source of all good works in the neighborhood.”
Rushton sighed. “One of those? An old tartar who upholds God and country for all the lesser folks of the countryside, dispensing elixirs with moral platitudes?”
Such a description could hardly have been further from the truth, but Penrith, his eyes dancing, vowed, “I won’t say another word.”
Detaching his gaze from his friend’s merry face, Rushton once again surveyed the charming vale. “I want that piece of land quite enough to beard the lioness in her den. Where does she live?”
“You wouldn’t call on her at this time of day, surely! It’s almost dinner time.”
“No, I shall call tomorrow.”
“Shalbrook is over that rise about half a mile. The entrance gates are a ways down the road.” Penrith had the most amusing vision of the two strong personalities meeting. To insure the success of his plan he said, “Really, Gareth, you have no idea what you’re doing.”
“What harm can there be? The old lady can only refuse, and who knows? I can be very persuasive when I want.”
“No doubt.”
Chapter Two
Shalbrook was a medieval manor house, complete with towers and battlements, but with no observable fortifications where it stood on its slight eminence overlooking the valley. As Mr. Rushton swept around the curve of the gravel drive in his curricle he noted the truly magnificent proportions of the building, and wondered how it had come into the possession of such an obscure family as the Easterly-Cummings must be. It had the presence of a peer’s seat and a well-kept look which, in such a large structure, denoted the expenditure of vast sums of money in maintenance. No doubt the old lady kept half the neighborhood in her service, Rushton thought grimly as he reined in his chestnuts. Well, all the better, for even if she had inherited “pots of money” from her father, it was no small undertaking to manage such an estate.
What the devil had gotten into Penrith to refuse to accompany him when he knew the old lady? She was sure to be a high stickler, and the proper introduction might mean a great deal in the transaction Rushton hoped to promote. He handed the reins to a liveried groom who appeared as the horses clattered to a halt, and traversed the innumerable stairs and terraces to the grotesquely out-size oak door.
All the snow had been cleared from the walkways, an enormous task at this time of year and undoubtedly useless, he thought with amusement, as the skies were once again leaden and promised a new fall before the next morning. A formidable-looking butler appeared in answer to his rap upon the door, a sound which seemed to echo hollowly throughout the interior. Handing the butler his card, Rushton said politely, “I wonder if it might be possible to have a word with Miss Easterly-Cummings. I am a guest of Sir Penrith Southwood at Oak Park, and he has mentioned her to me.”
“If you will step this way, sir, I will enquire if Miss Easterly-Cummings is available.” The butler led Rushton into an antechamber which was dimly lit by the wintry light outside creeping past the monstrously thick walls to make its way through the narrow twin arches of the window. The chairs were comfortable enough, Rushton decided when the butler had excused himself, and the view over the valley was delightful, but the damp penetrated the outer walls, which were devoid of any ornamentation—no paintings, no knickknacks—and the room was chilly. During the wait Rushton considered the best possible way in which to put his request to the old lady, but decided that he would have to wait before meeting her to see where her weak points were.
Not more than five minutes had passed when the door opened and a young lady entered. Obviously this was Miss Easterly-Cummings’ companion, and Rushton immediately rose and smiled. “I am Gareth Rushton, ma’am, and I wondered if your mistress might spare me a few moments of her time to discuss a matter of business.”
“Perhaps if you were to give me some idea of the nature of the business...”
“If you will excuse me, I would prefer to discuss it only with Miss Easterly-Cummings.”
“I see.” The young lady stood calmly before him, frankly appraising his features and clothing without the slightest shred of discomfort. “You are a friend of Sir Penrith’s?”
“Yes, indeed. We have known each other for the past fifteen years, I dare say. I have frequently stayed at Oak Park but have never had the opportunity to call on Miss Easterly-Cummings.”
“And how is it that Sir Penrith did not accompany you?” Her puzzled frown caused her brown eyes to narrow somewhat, which put Rushton on his guard.
“As to that, he had pressing matters this morning, and I was too eager to see Miss Easterly-Cummings to wait until this afternoon.” One really could not say that Pen had refused to call on a neighbor. “And besides, he knew that it was a matter of business which I had in mind.”
“Very well. If you will follow me, please.” She turned abruptly and led him through the medieval hall and down a corridor as cold as it was dark before opening a door and preceding him into a spacious chamber with a roaring fire blazing on the hearth. There were the same arched windows on two sides of this room, and the sofas and chairs were gaily upholstered in gold satin which matched the carpet, the whole giving an effect of warmth and comfort. “Please be seated, Mr. Rushton. I am, as you appear not to be aware, Selina Easterly-Cummings.”
“The
Miss Easterly-Cummings?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes, Mr. Rushton. The only Miss Easterly-Cummings. Did Penrith lead you to believe that I would be other than I am?”
Rushton’s eyes betrayed his astonishment and he silently cursed Pen for playing such a prank on him. Now that he had made such a stupid error, there was little chance of convincing this young lady with her cool brown eyes and calm air of assurance to listen to his proposal to buy the land in the vale. But, dear God, it was no wonder that he had mistaken her for a companion. Although Miss Easterly-Cummings’ dark brown hair curled quite naturally, and her brows automatically arched over those distressingly frank brown eyes, and her nose was undoubtedly straight and patrician as that of an Easterly-Cummings should be, there was something to the set of her lips and the pointing of her chin which was decidedly provocative. It may have been this circumstance which led to her adoption of the most bizarre costume Rushton had ever seen on a young lady of position. Miss Easterly-Cummings of Shalbrook dressed routinely in high-necked muslin gowns of an inordinately depressing shade of muddy brown (varied only occasionally by a similarly deplorable yellowish-green creation of her own fashioning) and complemented this with the sturdiest of walking shoes.
One would have thought that she spent her days hiking about the countryside, from the very substantial nature of these shoes, and so she often did, but she was wont to receive those morning callers who dared to invade her sanctum in the same fashion. The dowdy brown (or green) gown could not disguise her equally provocative figure, and she had recently adopted a scarlet shawl which was swathed about her as inelegantly as possible. Combined with the shawl, the gown and the shoes, it was perhaps unnecessary to go a step further, but she had done so, nonetheless.
The linen drapers in Barton were provided with a wide assortment of fetching chip hats and wide-brimmed bonnets which the young ladies of the neighborhood sighed over for hours before determining which they would have. There were also, for the more elderly of the female population of the area, lacy caps to be had at a reasonable price. Even Mrs. Carstairs, now in her eighty-first year, had not the least difficulty in searching amongst the frilled pieces of linen to find a cap which was suitable for her age and dignity. Not so Miss Easterly-Cummings.
The frivolity of such items was abhorrent to her very soul, it would seem, and she chose instead to effect a rather unnerving head-covering of muddy-brown fustian, trimmed with a white band, which for all the world gave her the appearance of a nun. And though this was not what she had had in mind originally, she was rather pleased with the effect, and made herself a matching cap from the remains of the yellowish-green fabric out of which she had made her gown.
The total effect was of the height of eccentricity. Rushton could not believe that a rich young lady of obvious beauty could so distort her image. For a moment he was tempted to think that Penrith had somehow arranged with this woman to play a part which would throw him into utter confusion, and he regarded her searchingly. There was no wavering of the eyes, no flush of embarrassment, just that calm self-possession that surely proclaimed that she was indeed Miss Easterly-Cummings. “I fear Penrith allowed me to picture a much older lady,” he said at last.
“Well, that was naughty of him, no doubt, but the matter is clarified now. You say you wish to discuss business with me, Mr. Rushton? I am at a loss to understand how that can be.”
Mr. Rushton was never daunted for long. He had not been on the town for fifteen years without developing a great deal of polish in his manners, and, when added to his natural forcefulness, this produced a formidable personality. With a charming smile, he said, “Yesterday Sir Penrith and I were riding about the area in search of some land on which I might build a hunting-box. I have hunted the Pytchley, the Cottesmore and the Belvoir, but I have seldom had such sport as with the Quorn. My own home is in an area of Suffolk which is indifferent for the hunt, you understand, and I desire a location where I may indulge my pastime.”
On Miss Easterly-Cummings’ face there was a lack of interest so profound that Mr. Rushton felt a momentary spark of anger, which he carefully suppressed. It behooved him, he decided, to get to the point without further delay. “I saw a piece of land in the vale which would be the ideal location for my hunting box, and it is apparently not in use. Sir Penrith informed me, in fact, that the land belonged to you, though it is surrounded by Lord Benedict’s lands. My purpose in coming to you is to ask if you would consider selling it to me.” Once again Mr. Rushton allowed his charming smile to spread over his features.