by Tess Byrnes
“You are familiar with my property, Miss hawksworth?” he questioned with raised eyebrows.
“Uh, well, no, of course not.” Priscilla stammered, caught off guard. “Mrs. Hartfield must have mentioned it, or, um, Lucy.” She paused and took a breath. With an assumption of ease she continued, “Where, in fact, is your estate located, sir.”
Jasper was eyeing Priscilla quizzically, but he answered her question politely. “The southernmost tip comes within a few miles of the Hartfield estate. If you wanted to approach it from nearer the hunting lodge’s main gates, it would in fact be a very long drive by the main road. We shall enter through a road that I hope will prove smooth enough for this carriage, and lead us quickly to the lake. It is a short cut through the estate, actually, that makes the trip from the house to Hartfield manor a quick, if somewhat bumpy, trip.”
Priscilla smiled agreeably, and then turned to look at the passing countryside. “Well, my girl, you are not as good at this subterfuge business as you thought,” she chastised herself silently. “But I think you covered up pretty well.” She eyed Lucy with mild hostility, as the girl chatted quite comfortably with her obviously smitten companion. “I must find a way to trade places with Lucy on the way home,” she thought.
They rode on for a while in awkward silence, when Priscilla became aware of a choking sound. Fearing that Lucy truly was frightened by her first ride in a high phaeton, Priscilla reached back to take her hand, only to realize that Lucy was in fact trying not to laugh. Mortified, Priscilla forgot herself so far as to squeeze her charge’s hand. Lucy snorted, and gasped out through her giggles, “a ready fund of interesting facts.” At that, Priscilla too began to laugh. Lord Hillaire looked bemusedly at his helpless passengers, and stopped the team in the middle of the road.
When she realized that they stood still, Priscilla pulled herself together and said apologetically, “I am afraid you must think us quite mad, my lord.”
Jasper smiled warmly down at her and said, “Not mad, but definitely merry.”
Julian continued in a plaintive tone, “I would like to know the joke, if I might.”
Priscilla blushed, and said, “Pray, sir, drive on and I will try to tell you.” Jasper started his team again down the road, and turned to look at his passengers enquiringly. Lucy, quite pink, blurted, “It was the book, my lord,” and just as suddenly subsided back into her corner, giggling.
Priscilla smiled at her and said to Jasper, “We have been having a discussion in the schoolroom about literature and writing, my lord. One of our books, though of an improving nature is not what I would term a well-written volume. I am afraid it did prove to be quite apropos today, however,” and she repeated the offending sentence. Jasper laughed and asked, “Have you an interesting fact ready to share with us, Miss Lucy?”
Lucy blushed and shook her head, then sat up with a gleam in her eye. “Yes. Hawkie, I mean Miss Hawksworth, believes that Virgil is the best poet in the world.”
“Indeed?” Lord Hillaire raised an eyebrow at Priscilla. “That is an interesting fact.”
Priscilla directed a quelling look at Lucy. “I don’t believe I made quite such a sweeping statement, Lucy.” She turned again to Jasper. “I did try to introduce them to the Georgicorum, hoping that by combining poetry with a subject that they knew and loved such as country life I might spark an interest in the Roman poets. But I’m afraid my own love for the book may have carried me away.” She stopped in consternation, aware that she had been betrayed into going on at length about a subject most likely to bore the Viscount.
“Which translation?” Jasper asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Priscilla intoned in surprise.
“Which translation?” Jasper repeated, looking down at her with interest. “I assume you aren’t teaching your pupils Latin as well in your spare time. Which translation of Virgil are you reading?”
“Martyn,” Priscilla answered in amazement. “It was my father’s favorite. He said that Martyn had captured what Virgil had to say about love of the land in poetry that even a prose loving Englishman might truly appreciate.”
Jasper nodded smilingly and replied, “A sentiment after my own heart. I would very much enjoy meeting your father, Miss Hawksworth.”
Priscilla felt a prickling behind her eyes, but managed to say quite calmly, “He passed away last year, my lord.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jasper murmured, but continued after a moment, “Of late, I have come to favor the newer translation by William Sotheby. His poetry is somehow finer, I think. I would like to hear your thoughts on it. Would it be impertinent of me to offer to lend it to you?”
“Not at all,” Priscilla replied, grateful for the sensitivity he showed in allowing her a moment to regain her self control. “I should like if above all things.”
Lord Jasper smiled at her. “Then I shall bring it to you tomorrow.”
Priscilla’s color deepened and she turned to point out a terribly interesting tree they were passing to Lucy, who had a very self-satisfied smile on her face.
“Would I have known your father, Miss Hawksworth? In what part of the country did he reside?” Jasper inquired gently.
“No,” she replied softly. “My father was a scholar, in his own way. He loved books and the pursuit of knowledge. I think that’s what kept him sane after my mother died, when I was just a baby. It was the greatest part of his life, I feel.”
“You miss him still, do you not?” he murmured sympathetically.
She nodded mutely, struck that this stranger seemed to understand her feelings after a few minutes acquaintance better than her own family had ever done. Jasper looked down at her, and then gazing at the road ahead, somehow found her gloved hand and gave it a quick understanding squeeze.
The gesture nearly undid Priscilla, surprised that the touch of a hand could convey so much. A hand that had once caressed her in a more than understanding way, a small voice suddenly reminded her. Pulling herself together, Priscilla beguiled away the rest of the drive by devising ways to thwart his Lordship should he ask any more searching questions.
As the carriage pulled off the main drive, and down a tree-lined lane Priscilla’s wandering thoughts were reclaimed.
“Not much farther now, and you should be able to see the lake,” Lord Jasper informed them. They rounded a corner, and a lovely view of a still lake with a large belvedere came into sight. The white wooden structure stood out over the edge of the calm water, the paint peeling slightly, climbing roses that entwined themselves around the wooden support beams still blooming in fragrant clouds of pink and white blossoms. The overall impression was one of an elegant escape, a peaceful haven.
Halting the carriage, Lord Jasper leaped gracefully from his seat and, as his groom came forward to hold the team, he handed down Priscilla as his cousin performed the same service for Lucy. Leading them into the belvedere, Priscilla saw that he had arranged for his staff to bring a trestle table in to the room, covered with a heavy white cloth and a profusion of flowers. Among the blooms sat a pitcher of icy lemonade, and a plate of tartlets and macaroons, and a profusion of fruits and berries. Chairs were arranged to take advantage of the view. Priscilla smiled with amazement at the unexpected treat, and called Lucy’s attention to the care his Lordship had taken.
“Do you always take such good care of your guests, my lord,” Priscilla asked with a warm smile in her eyes that brought out the dimple in her cheek.
“Only the beautiful ones,” he replied quickly, an admiring smile lighting his eyes in a way that caused warning bells to sound to Priscilla, but which caused Lucy, who had been hanging back and watching the two, to congratulate herself on her canniness. “If ever there was a case between two people, this is it,” Lucy told herself with satisfaction.
Aloud she said, “I’m not in the least hungry, but would like to explore the lake, if I may,”
“I will accompany you, if I may, Miss Lucy,” Julian offered quickly. He took her arm and the two made the
ir way towards the path that circled the small lake.
“Please go with them, my lord,” Priscilla said, aware that Mrs. Hartfield was counting on her to further the acquaintance of these two. “I shall be very happy here, with this lovely view of the water.”
Jasper looked after the retreating twosome. “I hardly think my cousin would welcome the intrusion.”
Priscilla pursed her lips in an uncanny imitation of a real governess. “In that case, maybe I should go with them.”
Jasper laughed. “I’m sure they’ll be too distracted by the beauties of nature to get up to any mischief.”
Priscilla allowed her gaze to wander from Lucy and Julian to the incredibly beautiful landscape before her, reflected delicately in the still water of the lake. “It really is lovely,” she said appreciatively.
“No lovelier than you are yourself, Miss Hawksworth.” the note of sincerity in Jasper’s voice was unmistakable. “You are a puzzle to me, my dear,” he continued in a smoothly. “Why is one so young and beautiful, and obviously genteel, employed as a governess? Why doesn’t your family claim you?”
“It is most improper in you to call me your dear,” Priscilla seized on the one part of his speech she felt she could speak to. “And quite untrue, as well.” She saw the ready laughter leap into his blue eyes, and hurried into speech. “And besides I am quite ravenous and must have a macaroon immediately. Would you be so kind?” She indicated the table, hoping to distract him from his questions.
“My pleasure, uh, Miss Hawksworth,” he responded in a voice that showed how little chastened we was by her rebuke. “My cook is held to have a particularly light hand with pastries and tea things in general. Her macaroons are one of my favorites, and she always indulges me when I come to the lodge.”
“This is not, then, your principal seat, my lord?” she queried.
“No, merely my favorite one. My mother lives at the castle, Hillaire Hall. She would like me to spend more time there, but it is a draughty old place, and all the servants have known me all my life, and tend to order me around a bit.” Priscilla glanced quickly up at this, unable to imagine anyone ordering the self-assured Viscount around.
“I’m sure you know how old retainers can be,” the Viscount continued. “They call me Master Jasper, and have a horrid knack of remembering all the incidents from my youth least calculated to add to my dignity.”
“I do know exactly what you mean,” Priscilla agreed with a mischievous smile. “My old nurse can never be in the same room as me without remembering the time I climbed the old elm in the west park and got stuck. Or the rather embarrassing incident involving my father’s favorite hunter, which I was using as a ladder to climb into the upper stable window, though at this date I cannot for the life of me remember why. Of course the inevitable happened, and the miserable beast spooked and ran off, leaving me holding on for dear life. It took the stable hands the better part of a day to catch that horse, too.”
Jasper gave a shout of laughter at her story. “Ah, this gives me hope,” he smiled. “I thought I was the only one who suffered thus. My particular nemesis is an anecdote told frequently by my butler. It involved me, and my sister georgiana, a bucket of glue and the visiting parson’s best Sunday bowler hat. As I said, it does not reflect well upon either Georgie or myself.”
He was smiling happily at these reminiscences, and Priscilla was congratulating herself on her ability to be so calm in his Lordship’s presences, while idly admiring the way the smile crinkled his eyes when a sharp cry of alarm broke the stillness.
“Oh my goodness,” Priscilla exclaimed, conscience stricken. “Lucy!”
Rushing from the belvedere and heading in the direction of the cry for help, Lucy stopped in her tracks at the edge of the water. There, suspended from the limbs of a giant elm tree that leaned out over the water, her errant charge was holding precariously on to a branch, calling frantically for help as she scrambled to pull herself back to safety. Julian appearing extremely conscience-stricken stood ineffectually on the shore.
Priscilla summing up the situation quickly, and seeing that the worst fate in store for Lucy was a ducking in the lake, gave an audible sigh of relief. The worried look left her face and was replaced by one of curiosity. “Lucy, how on earth did you get up there?” She called.
“Never mind that,” Lucy shouted agitatedly. “Get me down from here.”
Lord Jasper was surveying the tree. “Julian, you wretch. How did you allow this?”
Julian had the grace to blush. “On my honor, Jasper. I have no idea how she got out on that branch so quickly. One minute I was heading up the hill to pick some flowers that Miss Lucy desired, and the next minute she was up the tree.”
“I don’t think this will support my weight,” Jasper said, testing the lower branches. As if in corroboration, the branch came away in his hand. “I don’t think I can come up after you this way, Miss Lucy. I’ll have to wade out and catch you. Do you think you could drop into my arms if I stood beneath you?”
“Anything,” Lucy screamed. “Just help me!”
“But Lord Hillaire, you will ruin your lovely boots,” Priscilla protested. “Lucy, dear, can’t you just drop into the water. It’s not very dignified, my dear, but it will achieve the purpose. The water is quite clear here, and I can see that it’s not very deep.”
“But I can’t swim,” the girl sobbed, a note of panic in her voice.
“Don’t distress yourself, Miss Lucy,” Jasper called soothingly. “Only try to hang on for just a moment longer.” Manfully disregarding the damage to his boots, he stepped into the shallow water of the lake. When he reached Lucy, he was in water that just covered his knees. Reaching up he could just grasp Lucy’s ankles. But before he could give the order for her to release the branch, a large cracking sound was heard, and Lucy came plummeting down, tree limb and all.
CHAPTER TEN
Priscilla saw a jumble of arms and skirts as Lucy flattened Jasper into the water. Without thinking she plunged in to the rescue. She splashed through the shallow water quickly reaching the hectic scene. Grabbing hold of Lucy, she pulled the girl to her feet, and was rewarded by the sight of Jasper’s head coming back up out of the water.
“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.
“I think so,” Lucy replied shakily. “Oh Lord Hillaire,“ she exclaimed contritely, catching sight of the submerged nobleman as he sat up to his neck in the murky water, a wreath of elm leaves in his hair.
A dancing smile lit Priscilla’s blue eyes. “I fear you have had rather a bad fall, sir. Do you think you can rise with a little help?” She reached down one slim hand, and as he reached up and clasped it in his own, he looked up suddenly, his grasp tightening.
“Say that again,” he ordered roughly, a look of dawning comprehension on his face.
Priscilla’s eyes widened in apprehension and she pulled her hand from his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about my lord. I just wanted to see if you could rise.”
“No, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. I am undoubtedly a fool.” His eyes scanned her face searchingly.
“Hawkie, I’m getting chilled. Can we continue this in the belvedere,” Lucy’s teeth chattered. She looked from her governess to the dripping Viscount, confused and a little frightened by his Lordship’s intensity.
Recalled to her duty, Priscilla huddled the drenched girl up the bank and back to the belvedere. Julian, after standing as if mesmerized by the scene had quickly gathered his wits and fetched several horse blankets, and Priscilla wrapped Lucy in one, rubbing her arms and back briskly.
“Should I ride through the woods to the lodge house and gather some more blankets and dry clothing for the ladies, Jasper?” Julian offered.
“No,” Jasper replied with characteristic quick decision. “I think it would be best if we wrapped up in what blankets we have here, and all returned to the lodge. It’s only a few minutes by this road. That way we can all dry out before a warm fire, a
nd Mrs. McCrorie, my housekeeper, can look to these ladies and ensure that they don’t contract a chill.”
Casting a searching glance at Priscilla as she fussed over Lucy, Lord Jasper, sloshing with boots full of water, led the ladies over to the carriage and assisted them up into their seats. Climbing into the seat, Lord Jasper picked up the reigns, and, without another glance at Priscilla, turned the horses onto a narrow, rutted lane. Priscilla, glancing surreptitiously up at his profile, saw that the smile that usually lurked in his blue green eyes, and had been quenched and was replaced by a harsh frown.
The carriage pulled up to the sweeping front steps of a well maintained, but decidedly ancient, stone house. It was low and rambling, and had a beautifully gabled roof. Dark green ivy grew on the lowest stones of the house, almost reaching the heavy leaded windows that stood ajar. The late afternoon sun shone off a myriad of paned windows, giving off a golden glow. A groom ran out as the carriage approached and handed the damp ladies down.
“Well, whatever has happened, my lord?” the young servant was startled into asking.
“A slight mishap involving the lake, Herbert,” Jasper replied wryly, his equilibrium apparently restored by the challenging task of driving his well sprung carriage with its delicate burden over the rutted and rocky lane.
“Please inform Mrs. McCrorie that we have some garments that are in need of drying, and that we will be wanting a fire in the small saloon, as well as in one of the bedchambers. We shall also require something for these ladies to change into while their clothing dries.” He had been gently leading Priscilla and lucy up the stone steps and into the house as he spoke, and he turned to them now.
“You will excuse me if I hand you over to my housekeeper now. She will see that you are taken care of.” He brought his gaze to Priscilla’s face. “You and I, Miss Hawksworth, have some unfinished business to discuss as soon as you have changed,” he said meaningfully. Priscilla felt her cheeks flush, and, knowing that Lucy’s all too perceptive gaze was upon her, struggled to reply as casually as she could.
