by Agnes Forest
Without asking, Lord Benedict got up from his seat and poured Lord Phillip a brandy, carrying it to him. Lord Phillip accepted the brandy and began to drink.
“Might I ask if you have made your proposal yet?” Sawyer said, hoping to get the discussion back on point.
“No,” he spat out quickly.
“Do you intend to ask for her hand soon?” Sawyer added.
“Very soon,” Lord Phillip said, trying to compose himself. “Tonight.”
Lord Benedict’s eyes went wide. This was news to him. Of course, Lord Phillip himself wasn’t sure if he’d follow through.
“Sir, I do believe that you’re stalling,” Sawyer said.
“Not in the slightest,” Lord Phillip replied.
“How is it, then, that you might be at the Stockwood Park for an entire month without claiming what you wish to attain? Were I you, Lord Phillip,” Sawyer stood and went to the window, and Lord Phillip resented that he was standing in the place that Lord Phillip himself was standing before. “Were I in your position, I would have asked for the lady’s hand within days. Nay, judging by the stirrings in my breast, within hours.”
Stirrings in his breast, Lord Phillip thought contempt-fully.
“Hogwash!” Lord Phillip exclaimed. “That is because, fellow, you’re entirely without good breeding. Are men to be Neanderthals and go in to claim what they assume is theirs, taking the lady by the hair and dragging her into the cave?” Lord Phillip said.
“Yes,” Sawyer replied.
Lord Benedict’s eyes went wide with shock.
Sawyer let the shock sink in a bit longer.
“That truly was a joke, I assure you,” Sawyer finally said.
“This is no time for jokes,” Lord Phillip replied, sipping his brandy.
“The point that I’m trying to make is that you seem to believe that you have a claim on the lady, and I’m of the opinion that you do not. Lady Vivian is no man’s property. You ask for my respect, but I see no reason why I need to give it to you.”
That was it. Lord Phillip couldn’t stand the clown that sat before him. It was all too ghastly to be believed. Lord Phillip looked to Lord Benedict, wondering how the gentleman could even invite such a scoundrel into his home. Stockwood Park would need to be thoroughly cleaned after Sawyer left in order to erase the memory of it. Lord Phillip himself would need to take a bath.
“I’ll have you know that Lady Vivian and I go together like bread and butter; peas and carrots,” Lord Phillip said with great dignity.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Vivian does not agree,” Sawyer replied.
Lord Benedict was in such a state. There he sat, watching the two young bucks go at it, and they were contending for his very own daughter. It was a tennis match and Vivian was the ball, Stockwood Park was the court. Would the horror never cease? It was a pickle; he desired Lord Phillip’s financial standing, but he enjoyed the humble soldier. What was he to do?
“Sir, I very much hope that we don’t have to settle this with our swords,” Lord Phillip said.
Yes, he kept that sword gleaming on his sash. Sometimes he’d put it on the mantle and just look at it. It was finally time for Excalibur to find its way into the breast of a lowly beggar.
“With all due respect,” Sawyer said, stepping from the window and putting out a hand to calm Lord Phillip. “I fear that you don’t want to do that.”
Yes, Sawyer was a finely fashioned young man, and once Lord Phillip came to think of it, he wondered if the proposal of fighting was sound. It sunk in that Sawyer Cook was, in fact, a war hero.
Lord Phillip cleared his throat and started making a fire. Sawyer could not tell what this reversal signified, but he was happy that the physical threats had ceased. In truth, he did not want to hurt Lord Phillip, and if provoked, then he certainly would. He also did not wish Lady Vivian to see the gruesome result of his physical provocation.
“Do you know what it is?” Lord Benedict said, the brandy doing a nice job of calming his nerves. “The weather. That’s why you gentlemen are all fire and brimstone. Look out the window there. This spring evening shall be dry and cool, and that means that young men like yourselves build up your hot bloodedness in order to balance it. I have a Chinese medicine book here that describes it all in detail,” Lord Benedict said, walking about the library to find it.
“There’s a name for it,” Lord Benedict went on, searching in vain. “It’s on the tip of my tongue . . . the humors! That’s it, the four humors. But there are five elements in Chinese medicine and those . . .”
Sawyer had to wonder if the battiness was a sign of inbreeding, but he’d never say that aloud. He was used to clear-cut combat. Men have a quarrel, they go head to head, one man falls and the other one prevails. Simple.
However, the kind of battle that Lord Phillip and Lord Benedict were accustomed to was new to him. It was as difficult as traversing the maze in the yard.
Having not successfully found the book, Lord Benedict decided that he couldn’t endure the tension for a moment longer.
“I think it’s time for you gentlemen to return home,” Lord Benedict said, exhausted. He had originally thought to have Lord Phillip stay for dinner, but he couldn’t stand to look at him for one more second. Lord Benedict was tired and needed his pills.
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Sawyer said.
“What about the roast lamb?” Lord Phillip asked, having anticipated it all day.
“I’m afraid it will have to wait till a later date,” Lord Phillip said.
“Very well then,” Lord Phillip said with contempt. “I’m not hungry.”
With that, Lord Phillip walked out of the library and through the front door. Sawyer followed him.
Lord Phillip did not like being followed so. He wished to make his own exit. However, he feared that if he exited first and the soldier stayed behind, he’d never leave. That could prove disastrous.
When the men were gone, Lord Benedict heaved a sigh of relief and finally found the Chinese Medicine book.
Outside, Lord Phillip abruptly turned towards Sawyer.
“I’m well aware of your shining reputation from the war,” Lord Phillip said. “I’m not ignorant.”
“I never thought that you were,” Sawyer replied.
“All of that is to say that your reputation is all that you have:
Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!”
Lord Phillip performed the little speech with a rather cold recitation. Yet, Sawyer was still impressed that the man attempted it.
“Very good,” Sawyer said.
“I hold your reputation in my hands,” Lord Phillip went on, recovering from his fit of theatrics. “I have several friends who hold high positions. I have connections to those with wagging tongues. I could ruin your good name in time for supper tonight.”
“Explain how that’s possible,” Sawyer replied.
“I don’t need to explain my methods to you but rather the outcome,” Lord Phillip said. “If you return to the Stockwood Park on any future occasion, I’ll have all of British society know how you really got your commission.”
“I purchased it with hard earned money,” Sawyer said.
“Try to explain that to proper society when word gets out that you stole your commission and that you’re a louse,” Lord Phillip said, rather proud of himself for coming up with it.
It was a moment that Christian Sherbet would have been immensely proud of. Sawyer reached into his pocket and pulled out the commission. The actual document. He held it up for Lord Phillip to view.
“Put that away!” Lord Phillip cried. “It could be counterfeit for all I know. It’s not too farfetched to say that you have studied calligraphy and forged it with your own hand.”
“There is no way that you can prove this commission is forged,” Sawyer said in annoyance.
�
�It doesn’t matter if I prove it or no. The point is that tongues will wag once the word is spread. And so long as people are talking of it, it matters not if it’s true or false. The talking alone can undo you. And not only that, but might I remind you that your ruined reputation will also have a negative effect on Lady Vivian.”
“What?” Sawyer replied. Now Lord Phillip was really going too far.
“You heard me correctly. Should your reputation be tarnished, then it will not only have a negative effect on Lady Vivian but the entire Ravenswood family will suffer. Lady Margaret, off in Wales, will feel the blow. As will Lady Hattie, in the British West Indies, or wherever the devil she’s living these days. And just think of poor Lord Benedict, offering you brandy and all that you give him to return the thanks is a sullied reputation. You corrupt everything around you if you take one step back into that home.”
“And what of Fanny?” Sawyer asked humorously.
“Leave Lady Fanny out of this!” Lord Phillip wailed. “She could be deported to Scotland.”
“Is that even possible?” Sawyer asked.
“I can make it happen.”
They stood eye to eye, glaring. It was a staring competition, and Sawyer was incredibly tired of it.
“You’re a scoundrel and a cad,” Sawyer said, gritting his teeth.
“That might very well be so,” Lord Phillip replied. “But all’s fair in love, war, and money.”
“What a ridiculous statement. Nothing is ever fair in love, war, or money. Those are the very examples of how unfair life is.”
“I suppose that it might seem that way to one who is unlucky in love, has no money, and is a war hero.”
Lord Phillip had to admit that that statement was a little clunky. The fact that Sawyer was a war hero did not prove that he was unlucky in war. Perhaps just the opposite.
Sawyer slowly began to return towards Stockwood Park.
“Don’t you dare,” Lord Phillip said. Sawyer was taunting him. He stepped upon the first entryway step.
“Don’t you—“
Sawyer took another step up, turning his back towards Lord Phillip.
“I see what you’re going,” Lord Phillip said.
Sawyer took another step up.
“One more step, and you can be sure that Lady Vivian’s reputation shall be ruined forever.”
“I thought that you were to ruin my reputation,” Sawyer said.
“Are you deaf, didn’t I just tell you that ruining your reputation would ruin Lady Vivian’s reputation? Were you daydreaming when I explained all that?”
Sawyer stopped the taunting. It was a cat and mouse game that was getting him nowhere, and even though Lord Phillip was inept, it didn’t mean that his threat was unfounded.
Sawyer didn’t care one jot for his reputation, no matter how profound Lord Phillip’s Shakespearean words were. However, if ruining his reputation meant that he couldn’t have Lady Vivian, it was not worth it. He still could not follow the line of argument wherein Lady Vivian’s reputation would be ruined as well, yet he feared it.
Sawyer stepped down and rejoined Lord Phillip on the gravel entryway.
“You have made the right choice,” Lord Phillip replied, vindicated. “Now if you’ll excuse me, since I was planning on Cottage Pie for dinner and that has been dashed, I must return to Smithfield and inform my staff that they’ll need to make it for me.”
Lord Phillip turned towards his carriage and hopped inside. He waited inside silently until Sawyer did the same.
“Ridiculous,” Sawyer said, shaking his head. He finally walked to his own carriage and jumped inside, all the while Lord Phillip watched his every step. Once Sawyer was inside, Lord Phillip departed.
“Did you have good luck?” the elderly carriage driver asked. The poor fellow had been waiting there the entire time.
“I’m not sure,” Sawyer replied, deep in thought.
“That’s not good,” the man added with a sour face. “Maybe she’s playing coy.”
“It’s not the lady that is the impediment, I assure you.”
“The father, then?” the driver asked.
“Not even him.”
“The rich fellow that wants her hand as well?”
“How did you know?” Sawyer asked the carriage driver.
“My boy, every story has one,” the driver replied, and off they went back to Bedringham Court.
What a day it had been. Sawyer was exhausted and in need of clearing his head. Perhaps he would go home and paint. No, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He could go for a ride on his horse. That almost always cleared his mind. Yes, he would undertake it. But he would bring his gun, so that he might fire at wolves.
Chapter Seventeen
Vivian was on her fifth scone. It had been that kind of morning. She regretted that she had eaten so much but she was bereft. She hadn’t heard from Sawyer in several days and couldn’t understand it. Her father had stopped forcing her to come down to breakfast, and so Georgette was now bringing Vivian food in the morning on her tea tray.
“Orange blossom, rosemary, blueberry, cinnamon, and cardamom with cheese,” she had ordered. Georgette looked at her in wonder, but went and procured the scones nonetheless. Vivian had a strong appetite that morning, and she planned on staying in her room all day, with the scones.
This had been going on for several days. Vivian was feigning illness and not coming downstairs. She didn’t wish to see her father or Lord Phillip, and awaited word from the man that had won her heart. Why had he not sent a letter? It was all so vexing. Perhaps Sawyer was hurt? Maybe he fell off his horse, or fell in his pond, or worse yet, maybe he no longer wanted to court her.
Aside from eating scones, to pass the time Vivian would read her books. She counted three books since Sawyer left Stockwood Park. It was all that she could do to pass the time. She dressed simply, fixed her hair neatly, and abstained from jewelry. Vivian was in a state of waiting, and mourning.
What had happened downstairs in the library on that fated day? Her father would not tell her what had transpired, and she dare not speak to Lord Phillip. Had Sawyer been pushed away, bought off, or discouraged? Just thinking of it gave her a headache.
“How are the scones, M’am?” Georgette asked.
“Fine,” Vivian replied with little enthusiasm.
“The chef took great care with the cardamon scone,” Georgette added, trying to solicit enthusiasm.
“I like the cheese,” Vivian replied.
“How’s the consistency of the cream?”
“Fine, I suppose,” Vivian replied.
Georgette did not like it when her mistress was so down. She also knew that when Vivian ate five scones at one sitting that something was not right.
“A bit of ham, then?” Georgette asked.
“I think not.”
Downstairs in the breakfast room it seemed that Lord Benedict was feasting and in good spirits, but Vivian’s room was like a funeral. Georgette could not fix it, even though she wanted to.
Vivian walked towards the window and looked out upon the maze. Every morning that she did so it brought up thoughts of Sawyer and their remarkable afternoon together. She stepped away from the window and returned to the tea tray.
“Stop this at once!” a voice cried out. Fanny had abruptly entered the room.
“What do you mean?” Vivian asked.
“You’re sulking,” Fanny said.
Fanny had pulled herself from the breakfast table downstairs, unable to endure it any longer. And when Fanny pulls herself from any dining table, it’s a clear indication that things aren’t what they should be.
“Fanny, I’m busy,” Vivian said, raising her book in front of her face.
“Nonsense.”
“I am. There are many things that I have to accomplish today,” Vivian added, sipping her tea.
“You’re being sullen. Your father is worried.”
“Let him worry. I’m too busy to care,” Vivian said.
/> Fanny couldn’t help but think that love was the most useless sensation. There her young lady sat, sad, bereft, and contemplative, and it was all thanks to love. Such a waste. Fanny had never been in love in her life, and look at how fine she turned out to be. No, indulgence of the heart always proved disastrous, and Lady Vivian was a shining example of it.
“We’re going to the beach,” Fanny said, rifling through the closet to find Vivian’s swimming costume.
“Nonsense,” Vivian said, putting her book down.
“There’s no nonsense about it. I can’t stand to see you sulk for a moment longer. Sure, the gentleman has the broadest shoulders in all of Britain, but is it worth stuffing yourself with scones?”
Vivian looked at the crumbs of the fallen scones. She had to admit that Fanny had a point.
“I’m not in the mood,” Vivian said. Clothing herself in a bathing costume after overindulgence in pastries was unacceptable.
“We’re inviting someone to come along,” Fanny said, now entirely lost in the closet. There were so many frocks in there that Fanny felt as lost as she had been in the maze.
“The lieutenant?” Vivian asked, jumping to her feet.
“Don’t be a ninny,” Fanny replied. “I’m inviting Lady Elizabeth.”
“Lady Elizabeth?”
“Indeed. It will be good for you.”
Fanny had thought this through. She had been told by Lord Benedict that Vivian was in need of female companionship. And although Fanny considered her own companionship to be capital, she could see that Lady Vivian needed someone to talk to. Not only that, but also, Fanny had been so desirous to go to the beach, that if Lady Vivian had friendly distraction, then Fanny could let her hair down and not feel like a chaperone, at least for an hour.
“But she’s such a gossip,” Vivian protested.
“Lady Elizabeth is well respected in society,” Fanny explained. She was pulling garments from the armoire and had formed a rather large pile. Vivian couldn’t understand it.
“Do you expect me to take all those clothes to the beach?” Vivian asked in dismay.
“These gowns couldn’t possibly fit you any longer,” Fanny replied. Without intending to, she was cleaning out Vivian’s closet.
