In order to distract herself, she opened her sketchbook and proceeded to draw Mr. Lloyd-Jones’ in three-quarter profile, a view that included his gray beaver hat and exceptionally tied cravat. She propped the cover of the book at such an angle that he was not allowed to see what it was she drew and was delivered from exposure by Katherine through the offices of Miss Lloyd-Jones, who kept Katherine in animated conversation throughout the journey.
She did not allow the conversation between her host and her mother to fall on deaf ears, however, and she made certain that she noted every word that passed between them.
“Mr. Lloyd-Jones, where are we to picnic today? There were many out of the way places in the Shropshire countryside where I . . that is to saw, we, grew up, but everything in London seems always to be teeming with humanity.”
“You are most correct, Mrs. Armistead. We shall spread our cloth at Hyde Park. It is not such a crush this early in the afternoon as it shall be later on. We should be expected to wait an hour at the gate simply to gain entrance at such a time of day if you can credit it.”
“Oh, my! But it was ever thus, as I recall,” her mama replied.
“Yes, I suppose that is so. After we have taken our refreshment, we shall proceed, if you are all amenable,” he said with a gaze that took all into account, “to the Kensington Gardens. No parcels or packages are allowed in the gardens so this is why we have planned to have our picnic first. Unless you should prefer to see the gardens and then feast,” he added with what Elizabeth felt to be vast consideration for her mother.
“No, I am persuaded we should picnic first and then work up an appetite walking through the gardens. In this way we shall have earned our treat at Gunter’s,” she replied.
Elizabeth smiled at her mother’s logic and continued to sketch, though she ensured that she regarded her subject with enormous caution so he should not suspect her object. A quarter of an hour was spent in this pleasant manner when, without the slightest warning, the carriage pitched to one side in an alarming fashion and, amid a variety of shrieks and screams, Elizabeth was thrown against Mr. Lloyd-Jones in a most unseemly way.
It was for but a moment until she was thrown immediately back into her place, but not before she experienced the sensation of being pressed against a rousing set of rock-hard muscles from shoulder to knee. She was suddenly very much aware of the heady mixture of starch, soap and flushed skin that emanated from his neck as he turned to look down into her upturned face, his eyes wide with an emotion she fancied indicated his anxiety for her safety.
“I am quite all right, Mr. Lloyd-Jones; I believe we all are,” she said as she took in the expressions of the others. “What could have been the cause of such an escapade?”
He cleared his throat before he replied in a voice rather huskier than usual. “It might have been anything, a dog or a child not minding where they were going. As we are already on our way, again, it could not have been a serious mishap. Mrs. Armistead, Miss Hale, Analisa, you are all free of injury?”
Upon receiving a chorus of yeses, he replied, “Very good. We shall soon be at the gate of Hyde Park and we may then disembark and enjoy the day.” He turned to Elizabeth with one of those smiles that never failed to cause her some shortness of breath. “What have you been working on so industriously as your mother and I conversed?”
“It is nothing, really,” she replied as she pulled back the cover to see that she had inadvertently drawn a line through the face. “Oh dear, it is truly nothing, now. It was ruined during the course of that little contretemps.”
“Then you shall not object to my looking at it, is that not so? It is ruined not by you but by circumstances and you can feel no vanity with regard to it,” he insisted.
Quickly she threw her hand against the cover of the book. “Indeed I can do. But I shall draw you another before the day is out and you may view it all you wish.”
“Thank you. I should enjoy that excessively.” As he spoke, the carriage jostled such that he was forced to brace himself with his left hand against the bit of seat between the two of them. Elizabeth presumed his action was meant to prevent his colliding into her as she had against him. However, when the moment was past and the fingers of his hand curled around the front of the seat, she realized it was his intention to allow it to linger not an inch from her knee.
She again opened her sketchbook in an attempt to divert her thoughts from that which should prove to discompose her. Turning to a fresh page, she began a drawing of his sister. It was a subject Elizabeth would be best pleased to share with Mr. Lloyd-Jones with no blushes. However, she found she could not dismiss the presence of his hand from her mind. She regarded it from beneath her lashes and noted that it was elegant and graceful while being entirely manly and strong. There was no sign of lace at his wrist, to his credit, for she felt the clean, straight, lines to be more fashionable.
With each sway of the carriage, the near edge of his hand seemed to draw closer until finally it came in contact with her knee. She fancied she could feel the heat of his skin despite the layers of muslin she wore, not to mention the density of his gloves, and she felt her face grow hot.
To her chagrin, it was this very moment that Mr. Lloyd-Jones turned to observe her. “Miss Elizabeth,” he inquired, “do you suffer from the heat? Should you prefer to sit by the glass if I roll it down?”
“No,” she replied with certainty. She did not wish to take an action that would seat Mr. Lloyd-Jones next to Katherine. “I am quite comfortable, thank you.”
He looked down at her with such mirth in his eyes that she knew he silently laughed at her.
“Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” she added as a means to persuade him, “I find that I am quite enjoying our ride and am in no hurry for it to end.” She realized all too late how her words must have sounded for he lost no time in plucking his hand from its place near her knee and crossing his arms across his chest. To her astonishment, he seemed to blush and she realized that she could hardly argue against his action without raising more misconceptions, as well as a great number of eyebrows. As such, she resolved to remain silent until they had arrived at their destination.
Chapter Eleven
Once the carriage had come to a halt at the gate, Colin wasted no time in quitting his seat. It had been punishment indeed to feel Miss Elizabeth’s seeming discomposure for the duration, one so at odds with his delight at her longed for proximity. As he handed Mrs. Armistead and his sister from the carriage, he wondered at Miss Elizabeth’s seeming reluctance to disembark and added it to the tally marks of what he imagined to be her displeasure he had accumulated in his head.
Miss Katherine seemed disinclined to quit the carriage, as well, but she eventually did so, to his vast relief.
“Oh, Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” she chirped as she stepped down, and continued, without letting go his hand, with: “What a lovely day for a picnic!”
Colin found it difficult to persuade her to transfer her grip on his right hand in order to take his left arm. Once she did, he was never more repentant as she clung so tightly he felt as if the blood in his arm had no course but to pool in his veins like a river at the gate of a dam. However, once Miss Elizabeth appeared at the door of the carriage, her beauty bordered like a portrait in a frame, he forgot his pain. Her eyes glowed with pleasure, her cheeks bloomed with color and her entire ensemble was the precise green required to complement her eyes as well as his imperial green waistcoat upon which she had failed to so much as comment. Even her bonnet did not escape his approval; it was perfectly fetching and perfectly shaped; so unlike Miss Katherine’s over-sized affair tied under her chin with an enormous lemon yellow bow.
He handed Miss Elizabeth out of the carriage and adroitly conscripted her arm in one fluid motion that disallowed her capacity to decline. It was his intention to keep her close for the entire day and he felt like a lord with her arm linked in his as they walked. His sister and Mrs. Armistead followed behind, along with the coachman and a footman who had ridden up
on the box for the express purpose of aiding in the transport of a prodigious hamper to the first location that proved amenable to dining alfresco.
“Surely this is not your first visit to Hyde Park,” he asked Miss Elizabeth but it was Miss Hale who responded.
“But of course it is. I have never been to England. I believed you to be fully aware of that fact,” she said with a coy smile.
“Forgive me, I had not recalled,” Colin replied. In truth, he had forgotten her existence in spite of the fact that she clung to one of his arms like a leech in want of a meal. He was perplexed, as well, by her words that were so at odds with her manner. He turned to Miss Elizabeth in expectation of her usual remarks in the pursuit of whitewashing her friend’s comments. However, she gazed steadfastly ahead as if thoroughly unaware of the exchange.
“Miss Elizabeth, I see you are considering our picnic options with complete absorption. I am persuaded you shall swiftly find us the perfect spot to enjoy the contents of our hamper.”
“What about just there?” Miss Hale cried as she pointed to a spot so far in the distance it was impossible to know her intention.
“I fear my eyesight cannot be as sharp as yours,” Colin mused, “as I see only trees already spread below with those who, like us,” he said with a smile for Miss Elizabeth, “wish to enjoy their meal in dappled shade.”
“Oh,” Miss Hale replied, “I had not thought shade as important as all that. I have brought along my parasol, you see,” she added with an over bright smile. “I had thought to preserve it in silver tissue until my return to India, but I have had the strangest inclination of late to remain in England.”
Colin knew a foreboding. Perhaps Analisa had been correct in her estimation of Miss Hale’s desire to marry a Londoner. At the moment it seemed that her quarry was him. Not for the first time he wished he had invited another gentleman along to draw off her attentions.
“Miss Elizabeth, you have not shared with us your perception of Miss Hale’s words,” he said in desperation.
“Pardon me,” Miss Elizabeth replied as she turned to bestow on him a dazzling smile. “I was not attending.”
“Miss Hale . . “
“I give you leave to refer to me as Miss Katherine,” she demanded.
“Very well. Miss Katherine was sharing with us her sentiments as to the usefulness of a parasol on a day such as today.”
“Doubtless it is far more useful when it is open,” Miss Elizabeth said with a pointed look for the downcast little bundle of fabric as it hung from its owner’s arm. “Besides which, I am persuaded we are adequately protected by our bonnets,” she added with a second look, this one directed at the immensely wide and sadly out of fashion chapeau Miss Katherine had donned and which threatened to jab Colin in the chin with every step.
“It is true, it is a most efficient bonnet,” Miss Katherine explained. “It is modeled after one of Queen Marie Antoinette’s shepherdess hats and cannot fail to block every disagreeable ray of sun.”
“I do not find the sunshine the least disagreeable, Miss Katherine, though I must insist that we find a spot of ground that shall prove to be kind to the faultless complexions in our company.” Once again Colin turned to bestow a smile on Miss Elizabeth with his words and was rewarded with a smile of abashment in return. His heart turned over at the sight and his being filled with joy when he contemplated on how well matched her appearance was to her most excellent character.
“I do believe I spot a tree devoid of occupants,” Miss Elizabeth said as she pointed into the near distance.
“I fail to comprehend you,” Miss Katherine snapped. “It is not the tree that needs must be free, but the ground below it.”
“I am persuaded you are correct,” Miss Elizabeth replied in soothing tones wholly undeserved by her friend. “Do you not see that tree just at the top of that knoll? It seems no one has claimed it as of yet.”
“Yes, I see it.” Colin hastened his step and trusted that the ladies behind and the servants with their cumbersome hamper would keep up. “I defy any to beat us to it!”
“Oh, but look, just there,” Miss Elizabeth pointed out. “There is a party about to descend upon our chosen spot. We must be quick.”
Colin looked into her face and when she gave him a beaming smile in return, he knew she read his thoughts. With no idea but to be free of all constraints, he threw off Miss Katherine’s arm as he and Miss Elizabeth broke into a run. They arrived at the base of the favored tree just moments prior to the other party.
“I say!” said a man in a wig of questionable origins and excessively high points to his cravat. “Dash it all! We have had this spot in our sights since we entered the park.”
“How unfortunate for you that we have arrived ahead of you,” Colin said with a slight bow. Miss Elizabeth turned towards the tree, a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. It was all he could do to refrain from joining in her merriment until, suddenly, the notion to take her in his arms and spin her about consumed him quite thoroughly. The sensation served to quell his laughter even as one of the females of the party, an extraordinarily tall woman accompanied by an equally tall daughter, cut him dead and led her party on to the next suitable locale.
By this time Miss Katherine and Analisa had joined Colin and Miss Elizabeth under the tree while Mrs. Armistead and the men with the hamper still toiled along behind.
“This is precisely the spot I indicated at the outset,” Miss Katherine claimed. “Why you could not perceive it then I cannot say.”
“Pardon me, Miss Katherine,” Colin said, “I do believe I am needed or our meal promises to be food for the birds.” He took off at a run, glad that the dangerously wobbling hamper gave him an excuse to entirely ignore Miss Katherine’s comment. He gained his objective just in time to rescue the hamper from going down at the footman’s end, whom he then reassigned to go in aid of Mrs. Armistead whose entire journey had gone without the arm of any gentleman.
The women helped with the unloading of the hamper and it was Miss Elizabeth who caught the far corners of the cloth as Colin snapped it into the breeze. They smiled at one another over the length of damask before they each took their turns at carrying dishes from the hamper to place them where all could be reached. In spite of the quantity, it was short work and soon the footman and coachman were on their way back to their conveyance where their own meal waited for them in a far smaller basket.
Colin longed to take his seat and stretch his legs, but the ladies all stood about as if in wait of something. He looked to his sister who in turn looked to Miss Katherine, then to Miss Elizabeth, only to return her gaze to her brother with a lift of her eyebrows.
They were saved by Mrs. Armistead. “I am so tired I believe I shall drop. I think that I shall dispose myself right here,” she said as she sank to her knees and peeled off her gloves. “Elizabeth, do come and sit beside me.”
“Of course, Mama,” her daughter replied in tones of perfect contentment as she moved away from Colin and took up her place next to her mother. This left Miss Katherine entirely free to sink to her place just where she stood. Sadly, it was directly adjacent to Colin.
With an enormous effort, he held back a sigh and invited his sister to sit, whereupon he took his place next to Miss Katherine. At least it was the perfect spot from which to admire Miss Elizabeth though her friend’s words would be much louder in his ear. It wasn’t that he disliked Miss Katherine; it was only that her efforts to attach him were as tiresome as they were unprofitable. At any rate, with her thick, blonde hair, she was much more to Sir Anthony’s taste. Perhaps he would introduce the pair once Tony arrived back in town.
“Mr. Lloyd-Jones, may I place some of this blancmange on your plate?” Miss Elizabeth asked, removing her gloves and taking up the serving spoon placed beside the quivering mass.
“I thank you, Miss Elizabeth, and hope that you shall avail yourself of a piece, as well. It is one of my favorite dishes.”
“I shall keep that in mind,
Mr. Lloyd-Jones,” Miss Katherine chimed. “I am persuaded it will be most useful information to be in possession of when I . . ,” she said, her voice trailing off into a disagreeable silence.
“When you what, Miss Katherine?” Colin asked in all innocence, but the manner in which the ladies all looked down into their plates led him to the truth of the matter. That Miss Katherine should contemplate her role as his wife with such assiduousness was disconcerting in the extreme and he found he could formulate no suitable reply.
“Miss Analisa, have you a favorite dish?” Miss Elizabeth inquired.
“Why, yes, I do. I find that I actually dream of this macedoine of fruits in jelly, and quite incessantly, I might add.”
Colin was delighted to see that Miss Elizabeth and her mother laughed along with him, but it would seem that Miss Katherine failed to see this exchange as the very necessary rescue from her indiscretion.
“I only meant that when I am the wife of an Englishman,” Miss Katherine stated as if the topic of conversation had not been successfully turned, “I should know better, due to your revelations, what an Englishman should like for his table. For, as I have said only today, I do intend to remain in England and have decided that an English husband is what is required in order for me to do so.”
Once again Colin looked to Miss Elizabeth to compensate for the indiscretion of her friend but, instead, she reached across the cloth to help herself to a strawberry right from under his nose. Her hand, white as cream and dainty as a teacup of the finest porcelain, smelled of lilacs. He found he could do naught but watch its progress as she placed the berry between her rosy lips and bit into it. Could it be for the first time he noticed the whiteness of her teeth or was it only the depth of the color in the berry that made her teeth appear so? He could not say.
“Goodness, me, I think I shall be quite spoilt by this bounty.” Miss Elizabeth lifted his plate and began to spoon a slice of apple cake thereon. “I am persuaded the peaches are delicious. How many do you wish, Mr. Lloyd-Jones?”
Miss Armistead Makes Her Choice Page 15
