by Ella Edon
"Miss Robbins, Miss Henson, I am so glad you are still here," said Lady Worthington. "We were just showing Mr. Brookford the barns, and plan to give him a tour of the house before a late dinner. He has asked if you would like to join us!"
The two girls looked at each other. "That is so very kind of you, Your Ladyship," said Merope. "But we are preparing to walk back to the inn. We must go now, so that we may arrive before sunset."
"Miss Robbins," said Mr. Brookford, "if the earl will loan me a vehicle, I should be glad to drive you back into town this evening. The weather is fine and if there are lanterns, I think we can find our way quite safely."
Merope glanced from the earl to his wife and then back to Mr. Brookford, giving in a soft smile. "That would be most kind of you. As long as the earl will agree to the loan."
"Of course, of course," said the earl, chuckling. "I have a new vehicle and I should love to get your opinion on it."
"Oh, the Stanhope Gig that I just saw in the barn?" Mr. Brookford’s eyes brightened. "But it is made for two. There would, of course, be three of us."
"I am quite sure that these two featherweights will have no trouble riding with you," said the earl. "So, for now, Miss Robbins and Miss Henson, please do come inside. The gig will be ready by the time we are finished with our tour. Starling has done no work today and I was considering whether I should feed him tonight or not, so I'm sure he'll be pleased to trot a couple of miles for you this evening."
"Good, good," said Lady Worthington with a laugh. "Send word to the barn, Thomas, and the rest of you follow me!"
The lamps and candles were being lit by the servants as Merope walked beside Mr.Brookford through the great house called Worthington. Of course, right in front of them were the earl, his wife, and Sally, though Merope wondered how Sally was aware of anything Lady Worthington said. Every few steps, it seemed, Sally turned around and either smiled flirtatiously with Mr. Brookford or shot Merope a serious frown.
Watching her was almost becoming amusing, especially when she had to suddenly change from frowning to flirting whenever Mr. Brookford happened to look her way.
Yet the house was truly beautiful. Despite having lived all of her life a mile away at Birdwell, and attending a few casual events, Merope had never been inside the house. The last of the formal balls had been held many years ago, when the former Earl Worthington was still alive and the current one was only a boy.
This evening, though, Merope saw luxury like nothing else in Birdwell. Even though her mother's inn was appointed as nicely as she could possibly afford, it was nothing like this . . . the entire house was done in shining polished oak, heavy woolen carpets, silk wallpaper, and exquisite furniture, all of it kept in impeccable condition by an ever-present, but invisible staff.
The little group walked into the library. On one of the walls, a large oil painting caught Merope's eye, and she paused to look at it as the others continued on to the windows.
It was perhaps two feet wide and three feet long, beautifully framed in dark wood with gold inlay. She was looking at the portrait of a very handsome young man with dark hair and light hazel eyes . . . she instantly recognized a younger Mr. Brookford.
The painting could not have been done too long ago, for the face had the same fine features and determined eyes that Mr. Brookford displayed now. There was also a sort of fire in those eyes, like those of an eager racehorse, that Mr. Brookford did not seem to have now. It was not simply because he was content and at peace, the way his cousin Lord Worthington appeared to be.
No, Mr. Brookford seemed to have lost something. It was as though he had been defeated, somehow, and had given up. Merope wondered what could have happened to him to make him feel that way . . . and as she studied the portrait, she wondered if there was anything that might bring him back to the man he had obviously once been.
She looked up and noticed that Sally had moved right into her spot beside Mr. Brookford, looking up at him and giggling as though they had been a couple forever. Merope narrowed her eyes and walked calmly across the library, standing on the other side of Mr. Brookford as though she had not noticed Sally at all.
"Your Lordship. Your Ladyship," said Merope, as they faced her. "Your home is so very beautiful, but Miss Henson and I really should be leaving. My mother will be concerned if we do not return soon."
"Oh, of course, of course," said Lady Worthington. "Please. Let me walk with you to the portico. I must return to the kitchens and see to a few things, but you can wait out there while the gig is brought round."
A few moments later, Merope and Sally stood alone on the grand stone portico just as the sun disappeared. "Mr. Brookford seems quite drawn to you," said Sally, sounding a little breathless. "Did you like him as well?"
Merope paused and gazed out at the deepening twilight, as though carefully considering Sally's words. "Well enough, I suppose. He was adequate company for a picnic. But beyond that? I could not say."
"Now, now, Merry," she said with a careless laugh. "It's quite clear that the two of you are completely taken with one another. I do not stand a chance whenever you are around. No girl does!"
"Sally Henson, I do not know what you mean. You are pretty and sweet, this gentleman is just as likely to be smitten with you as he is with me, or with anyone else."
Then Sally's voice turned serious. "And if I did care for him, and you did not? Would you steal him away from me as you did Daniel Bird?"
Very slowly, as if she had not the faintest idea of what she was hearing, Merope turned to face Sally. "Daniel Bird?"
"Yes, Daniel Bird! I cared for him – you knew that I did – and that was when and only when you decided you wanted him for yourself."
By way of answer, Merope simply looked down at Sally and laughed. "I know that is what you believe. But I really thought little of him. He is just a farmer – a hog farmer – of simple means. Nice enough, I suppose, but not the sort I would set my cap at."
"But – "
"But I cannot help it if he wishes to glance at me every chance he gets. Why did you not think it was his choice? Do you think I have such power that I can sway any man's heart and mind to my will simply by thinking of it?"
Sally set her jaw. "You are the prettiest girl in Birdwell. And when you turn your charm on a man, it will sway him right away because yes, he does think you have turned your own heart and mind towards him."
Merope only shrugged. "Miss Henson, I am quite sure you would not be complaining to me if a man that I liked turned his attentions to you. Would you?"
Sally started to answer, and then paused.
"That is what I thought. To the best of my knowledge, neither you nor Mr. Bird were engaged to each other or to anyone else. That meant that he was just as free as anyone else to turn his attentions wherever her liked, whether it was to me or anyone else."
Sally looked on the verge of tears. "Well – I – "
"You see, Sally? This is why I am determined to allow sense and rational thought to help me find a proper man. Being swept away on waves of emotion only causes needless turmoil and suffering, as you are feeling now. In simpler terms, I suggest that you keep your head as the ruler of your passions and not allow your heart to run wild with them instead."
"But I have! I know what I saw. He was fond of me, but you stepped in – you told him I did not care – you did not even want him. It was only a game to you!"
"Ah, look," Merope said calmly. "Here is Mr. Brookford with the gig. I will be glad to get home after such a long day." She walked down the steps to the gravel drive, leaving Sally fighting back her tears up on the portico.
Sally walked down the front steps of Worthington House and stood in the torchlight as Mr. Brookford and Earl Worthington approached the house in the gig with a single black horse in the shafts. They halted at the steps and as they did, Sally raised her chin and looked at the back of Merope Robbins's artfully arranged blonde hair.
Always before, Sally had felt second-best in the shadow of M
erope's beauty and cool composure – especially when it came to her cold attitude towards men. Merope had never had her heart broken and never wore her heart on her sleeve. The men never knew what she thought about them, if indeed she was thinking of them at all.
Merope said she wished to be married, but many suspected it was only to have an heir to the inn that she and her mother ran. It belonged now to some distant uncle, or so everyone said. But that seemed to be the only reason. Sally was convinced that to Merope, men were merely toys for her amusement or convenience, and she would never take them seriously.
And why should she? Her mother had been a widow for almost all of Merope's life, and had done well on her own with the inn. Neither of them needed a husband to provide an income, the inn did that quite nicely for them both.
But when she had played her little games on Daniel Bird, it had nearly broken Sally's own heart. Sally knew that Merope would do the same with James Brookford, too, the earl's own handsome and newly arrived cousin. Right from the start, Merope had stepped in and not given Sally the smallest chance with Mr. Brookford. Sure enough, he had ignored Sally, even though she had been the first to walk up to him when he'd arrived.
Sally had had just about enough of it. Right then and there, she decided that never again would Miss Merope Robbins ruin one more gathering – or dismiss Sally as though she was not there – or take away a man she liked – ever again.
No matter what it took to stop her.
Chapter Five
The black horse halted in front of the great house and Earl Worthington leaped down from the gig. It was a very high-wheeled vehicle with a single curved seat that sat well above the horse's back.
"It is a very fine vehicle, Your Lordship," said Merope. "But it is rather small, as Mr. Brookford said. Are you sure we might all fit?"
"I think you will fit just fine," said the earl. "Please. Let me help you up. First one side and then the other."
Mr. Brookford sat right in the middle of the seat, and so first Merope was helped up to sit on his left and then Sally walked around to the other side so she could sit on his right. It was a little snug, but no one seemed to think anything ill of it, and so the girls pulled their shawls up around the shoulders as Mr. Brookford called out, "Go on, Starling!" and the horse started off at a careful walk down the lane that switched back and forth down the steep hill.
The moon was not yet up and full darkness had fallen. But there were good beeswax candles burning in the lanterns on either side of the gig and the small light they provided was at least enough to let them find their way. It would not take them too long to cover the mile or so back to Birdwell.
"So, Mr. Brookford," she said, speaking slowly. "I suppose I am still curious as to why you chose to come here now. Did you not enjoy life in London?"
He paused, as though not sure what to say, and Merope could tell, with pride that he was self-conscious around her. She was quite pleased. Her leg was pressed up against his, and she shifted it a little. Mr. Brookford cleared his throat.
"You were a farmer at first, and then a student," Merope mused. "Yet all the whispers are of a young gentleman who was something of a rakehell while living in London. Are any of the whispers true?"
After another moment of stunned silence, Mr. Brookford finally laughed. "I suppose they are," he told her. "You do not temper your words at all, do you, Miss Robbins?"
Merope laughed, even more pleased that he hadn’t tried to sugarcoat it. "Why, I suppose not. But why should I? All my life, I have found that honesty is truly the best policy."
"True enough. But I believe that was meant for more straightforward matters of business and trade. Most are not so forthright as you when it comes to simple social exchanges."
"Yet what else are social exchanges, except a form of business?" Merope continued. "Perhaps there would not be such distress between men and women, particularly, if they would only look at them in that way."
Mr. Brookford glanced at Merope and nodded. In that one glance, Merope saw quite a bit. Here was a gentleman who appreciated honesty. "I think you are a most sensible young woman, Miss Robbins. Most sensible. And to answer your question, I can only tell you that if I was something of a rake while in London, I had a great deal of company. What young gentleman would not comport himself so, celebrating his freedom after years of hard work at home and at university? But now, tonight, I am just glad to be home in the country for a time."
He turned and smiled at Merope again, and she rewarded him by deigning to give him a small smile in return.
"Yes, the country is nice," Merope said, in agreement. "But I think I would prefer the liveliness and excitement of the city. In fact, I long for it. After being so long in a small town, I am beginning to think that only city life will do for me."
"Indeed, you are quite the honest woman, Miss Robbins," said Mr. Brookford, nodding his head and grinning. "I am quite impressed by that. I myself would much prefer an honest truth to a flattering lie."
"I feel exactly the same, Mr. Brookford," said Merope. It seemed that they were the only two in existence. She felt like they understood one another completely.
The gig rolled along smoothly for a time, as Mr. Brookford kept Starling to a walk. "Will you be staying long at Worthington, Mr. Brookford?" Sally asked, before the two of them could begin conversing solely with each other again. "I am sure your cousin, the earl, and his wife would be very happy to have you stay for as long as you like."
"Well, now that you mention it, Miss Henson," he said, actually sparing her a glance, "they did encourage me, very strongly, to stay awhile. The earl said he thought it might help to remind me of the countryside I came from, and it seems that he also would like me to go cubbing with him in the fall."
"And, of course, Miss Robbins is barely a mile away down in Birdwell," said Sally, making an attempt to laugh. "Surely that would entice any gentleman to stay!"
Merope wondered what Sally meant to do.
"Oh, yes. Cubbing," said Merope, nodding as though she knew all about it. She knew next to nothing at all, however. "Short rides to train the hounds and prepare them for the longer hunts in the cold weather months. Is that not so?"
"Just so," answered Mr. Brookford. "And most enjoyable, with the beauty of the fall weather all around without the strain of a long, fast hunt."
"It sounds delightful," Merope answered, as though he had asked her if she might like to walk from one side of a room to the other. "I have never tried such an activity, but always thought it looked like something enjoyable."
"Do you ride, Miss Robbins?"
She gave him a coy glance. "Very little. I would have much to learn – but only from the right instructor. I would not allow just anyone to take me in hand."
"Why, no, no, of course not."
"And yet," Mr. Brookford went on, "I should be very pleased to teach you to ride. I am sure that the earl keeps a horse or two that would be suitable for someone who is – just starting out," he finished, giving her a very long look. "You could come to Worthington once or twice a week, and then be ready to ride on your own by the time the autumn season arrives . . . and ride quite vigorously."
At first, Merope didn’t respond. She felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of spending time with Mr. Brookford. She waited a moment, pretending to consider it.
"I have ridden a little myself," Sally said, trying to break in. "I have seen the cub hunts go past our farm for as long as I can remember. It always did look like such fun!"
Merope snorted delicately.
"I'm afraid, Miss Henson, that jogging along bareback on a harnessed dray horse will not help you to keep up in the hunt field, even for a leisurely cub hunt. However, if you would like, I could teach the both of you."
He turned to Merope again. "I will speak to the earl about arranging a time for riding, and then send word to both of you."
Merope just nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Brookford. I will consult my mother and see what days she will need me most. I wi
ll let you know whether or not I can spare the time."
Sally would have to come, she reasoned. Merope could not be alone with Mr. Brookford, and her mother could not afford to have a chaperone sent with her.
"Oh, but Mr. Brookford," Sally said, keeping her voice light. "Can you not see that Merope is not seriously considering your invitation? And she is as cold as the Feathering River in January, she has always been so!"
Merope wasn’t hurt by Sally’s jab for a moment.
"Why, I must disagree with you, Miss Henson,” Mr. Brookford replied. “She is not 'cold' – not at all! I simply find her to be honest, a character trait that I greatly prize. I have hoped to find a truly honest woman all my life."
