I wrote the name of a trustworthy agent and told her some specific words that would make him treat her as legitimate,while coincidentally letting him know that treating her badly would sit poorly with me (something best avoided). He had plenty of wagons and men and would strip the barns in a few hours with her father none the wiser.
I also told her the price she could demand, and it was better than expected.
She was so happy when she jumped up to go, she showed signs of the little hellion, and it was nice to see the spark was still there.
Of course, the traditions must be maintained, though by then, I would not have been surprised to arrive to a note from Mrs Smith. She had become a very attractive woman.
“Next year, Miss Smith?”
“Same time, same place, Mr Jones!”
15th July 1811 11 o’clock
“Miss Smith.”
“Mr Jones.”
That was how our sixth annual encounter began.
The young lady had matured into a lovely young woman and there were no two ways about it. She would make a lucky man very happy one day. She looked much as she had the previous year, but she had achieved the rare combination of seeming mature, when necessary, though still able to be impertinent when she wanted to.
“If I recall correctly, you should be coming up on twenty in a fortnight. Next year you will reach your majority. How go the wars?”
She laughed gaily, which lit her eyes as prettily as they had the last time I used that line a year earlier, and she showed no objection to the implication that I hoped to meet again the following year.
“Win a few, lose a few, Mr Jones. The dreaded entry of my youngest sisters into society has gone less terribly than I expected. I made modest progress with improving productivity and amassed quite a tidy sum to add to my mother’s jointure. It seems this project we have been working all these years is bearing fruit.”
I was glad to hear it, though hopeful it would not curtail our annual meetings. To be honest, I hoped to continue them until one of us married, and that event seemed highly likely for both within the next year or two. We were of an age where it was becoming the thing to do.
“I applaud your efforts, Miss Smith. I have always admired your grit and determination, so my hat is off to you.”
She smiled very prettily but then became slightly embarrassed by the praise. She would keep the smile and lose the embarrassment over time, so I was satisfied.
“All my sisters remain much as they were,” she sighed with just a touch of resignation.
“The eldest is still the kindest and most beautiful woman I know. My mother goes on all day about how she will save us from the hedgerows,” she said with a frown, then even more sadly, “After all, she cannot be so beautiful for nothing.”
“Has she failed to notice the rather obvious fact that she has at least two very beautiful daughters?”
She blushed prettily. “You would have to see Jane.”
“None of that!” I replied as sternly as I could manage. “Do you remember what I said about your beauty in that first meeting?”
She thought about it a while, and finally ventured, rather timidly by her standards, “You suggested I had no idea what sort of beauty I would grow into.”
“I stand by that. You grew into a true beauty, and no man can deny it!”
“No man, but—” she sighed.
“Say no more.”
“My sister has always had a sunny and optimistic disposition, but she is approaching two and twenty and she grows… fatigued.”
“I understand,” I said, and wondered if I would have to start rounding up men to bring to her town, though the idea of meeting her parents was something I would rather avoid.
She grimaced. “My next youngest is eighteen and practises the pianoforte diligently despite a dearth of talent. She has become obsessed with Fordyce’s sermons.”
I shuddered visibly. “The man has occasional words of wisdom, but most of it is utter rubbish. He wrote sermons foryoung women when he had even less contact with young women than I do. I have forbidden my sister from reading it.”
