He glanced about, surveying each of the men at their tasks. Bryson had disappeared, and Richard turned to search for him when his eye caught a familiar little pinto, tied to the rear of the smithy. He could not help a private smile. Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s face would be a pleasant diversion to his afternoon of dust and sweat.
He found her leaning against the anvil, her head bent beside her father’s as they admired a book of poetry. It was Keats today, if what he could read of the title was accurate. Bennet’s forge had gone black and cool, his duties forgotten as he read over his daughter’s shoulder. What a pretty picture they made; mutual delight over something so fine in the middle of a roughed-out blacksmith’s shop. Richard stopped, sensing himself an intruder, but not before they heard his entry.
“Ah, good afternoon, Colonel,” Miss Bennet greeted him. She closed the book—much to her father’s apparent disappointment—and slipped it into a basket at her feet.
“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet.” He touched his hat to the lady, then her father. “I hope you are well today?”
She parted her lips to answer, her eyes slipping towards her father when Bryson’s surly voice sounded outside. “Where is he? Why is this horse not done? Bennet!”
Richard could not miss the way the lady tensed. She stiffened, then moved behind the anvil. Not in fear—no, that was not precisely right. It was rather as if she were marshalling her forces and gaining the high ground before a battle. Her chin lifted, and those remarkable eyes narrowed.
“Bennet, I haven’t got all day to stand around while you shoe my horse,” Bryson sputtered as he entered.
Mr Bennet calmly turned away, and though Richard could not see his face, the man appeared utterly unperturbed. “Were you in a hurry to go somewhere, Bryson? I expect you would want the horse’s shoes made of iron, but I had none left until my supplies arrived from town.”
Bryson had, by now, noted both Miss Bennet and Richard, and his manner sobered somewhat. “Well, you have it now,” he grumbled, after quickly doffing his hat to the lady. “That fool Collins left with the wagon half an hour ago. What’s the delay?”
“Well, now, if you would have some of your men come sort these bars, I might start again all the sooner. But can they tell high carbon iron from low?” Bennet turned long enough to divert a teasing chuckle to the other, then began methodically about his tasks.
Bryson’s bluster had left him, and he moved towards Miss Bennet. Richard, he ignored, though he was standing close enough to touch the lady.
“Miss Lizzy, what did you bring us all in your basket? I’ll wager you got some sweets from Mrs Gardiner in there.” He came close, the stench of his stale sweat wafting over Richard’s nostrils.
Miss Elizabeth held her composure rather well as she gathered her basket. “I am afraid it was nothing of the sort, Mr Bryson. I only brought a few comforts from home for my father. And now, I am afraid I must go.”
Bryson leaned his elbow on the anvil. “Don’t forget, Miss Lizzy, you promised me a dance tomorrow night.”
“I recall no such promise,” she answered mildly.
Richard glanced at Mr Bennet, who had half-turned to attend the conversation. He offered no paternal rebuttal to Bryson’s advances towards his daughter, but the knuckles with which he gripped his tongs were white. He met Richard’s eyes.
“You were going to ride with me,” Bryson continued. “Remember, Miss Lizzy? You said you’d think about it, and so, I’ll come pick you up in my wagon.”
A flicker of anger appeared in her eyes, and her mouth opened in indignation. She looked as if her next words would flay the tobacco-stained grin from Bryson’s grimy face—blood was about to be spilt if no one intervened, and Bennet seemed in no mind to play the father’s proper role.
“I am afraid there has been some misunderstanding,” Richard cut in.
Bryson, who had been pointedly ignoring him, turned in surprise. Miss Bennet and her father were also regarding him with interest.
Richard turned smoothly to Bryson. “I had asked if I might accompany the Bennets tomorrow evening. I know few people in town, and I was quite depending upon them to introduce me so I might the better join in the merriment. Miss Elizabeth has graciously promised that I shall not be forced to sit out the first dance, at least.”
A jealous curl lifted the man’s lip. He glared back at Richard, apparently trying to make him flinch or apologise, but Richard had not been trained to charge the cannon for nothing. He could hear Miss Elizabeth’s indrawn breath, and from the corner of his vision, he perceived Bennet’s watchful eye, but he stared steadily back until Bryson’s face crumpled in betrayal. “You’d better watch yourself, Colonel,” he hissed. “Keep to your own business.”
Richard only lifted a brow. Bryson turned away then, and as he left the smithy, they could hear him barking savagely at one of the hands for no apparent reason. The Bennets, both father and daughter, were regarding him in silence.
“I… I hope I have not caused a difficulty for you, madam.”
She glanced uncertainly at her father, then her brow smoothed, and she offered a blithe chuckle. “Nothing of lasting consequence, I am sure. I thank you for your efforts at ridding me of Bryson’s company, but I am quite able to do for myself.”
“Then I beg you would forgive my clumsy efforts at chivalry. I spoke the truth when I said I knew none in town, save yourselves, and a handful of others. I would be honoured if you would permit me to escort your family, Miss Elizabeth.”
She glanced once more to her father, who now approached with a sudden hesitancy. “Colonel, a word, please.”
Richard gestured his acceptance to step outside with the man, but Bennet shook his head. “I may speak freely before Elizabeth. I will not be attending the social tomorrow evening. I fear that it may go better for my daughters if… well, sir, someone must remain here to keep an eye on the horses. I drew the short straw, so to speak.”
“Are you charging me with your family’s protection, sir?”
Bennet snorted. “Hardly. My brother-in-law will make an admirable chaperone, and Lizzy and Jane are girls of good sense. I do not fear for them.”
