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A soft rapping came on the open door. Alicia sat up straighter, craning her neck to see who was there, and smiled softly that her suspicions were correct. ‘Every day is much like another here,’ indeed, she thought, recalling Mary-Anne’s words.
“Good afternoon, Mister Gillingham,” she greeted Laurence.
“Good afternoon yourself, Miss Ramsbury,” he returned. Once again he surveyed the room with a polite smile. “No Shakespeare today, I see?”
She noted his eyes dart to her fingers. Following his gaze, she saw that she had been unknowingly worrying the hem of her skirt nearly into tatters, her hands reflecting all the trepidation that had passed through her mind. She released her hem and folded her hands in her lap, looking away from Laurence and fighting an inexplicable rush of embarrassment.
After a long moment of quiet—one that was, thankfully, less interminable than yesterday’s—Laurence began to speak in a concerned voice. “I had been thinking…” he said.
Alicia looked up at him expectantly.
“I would not like to presume, and I know you are awaiting news from your Mister Place. But…well, my dear mother always used to tell me something about a watched pot never boiling.”
Alicia smiled. “My mother said the same thing.”
“That being the case, if you are in want of something to watch other than your boiling pot…perhaps I could show you around the land for a time?”
Seeing the evident confusion on her face, he continued with a good-natured chuckle. “Only if it’s something you’re interested in, of course. Having patiently listened to me go on and on about it yesterday, I thought you might enjoy getting to see some of the farm. I could show you how your Victoria is getting along with the rest of the animals, maybe even see if the honeysuckle is blooming down by the pond?”
He pressed his advance, leaning forward with a dreamy smile. “It may not be the equal of an expensive salon or whatever else you and Mary-Anne do all day, but I can guarantee it’s a fine way to spend an afternoon—much better than sitting around here in a dusty room by yourself, certainly.”
Alicia found herself smiling, brought back to the innocent pleasure she experienced when looking over the view from her window this morning. She knew that each activity he mentioned would be full of dirt and powerful smells, yet to hear him describe it she thought it sounded strangely appealing. Especially recalling how clearly in love with the land he seemed to be in their previous conversation. And, as Alicia looked at the hopeful expression on Laurence’s face, the prospect of getting to spend a few hours alone with him provoked an odd sensation from somewhere deep within her…
Before she could open her mouth to accept this invitation, she drew in a sharp breath. As nice as his proposal was, there were a hundred common sense reasons to refuse.
Inside the house where you are staying is one thing, but it would be absolutely scandalous to be seen walking about outside with an unmarried man.
You do not know this man. Not really. For all you know, he could be capable of anything.
You would need to find Jenny and get her to accompany you. That would be the only way it would be either safe or proper.
“I would love to,” said Alicia, rising from her chair.
Laurence smiled and led the way out the door—Alicia followed, leaving her common sense behind in the dust.
* * *
With a sly grin, Laurence paused with one hand on the ajar barn doors. “Now, you’ll have to promise not to take anything you hear inside here too seriously. I’m afraid the ladies of Gillingham are terrible gossips.”
Unsure of just what she was being told, Alicia giggled and nodded as amiably as she could. Laurence threw open the barn door, releasing an enormous wave of foul-smelling something out over the grass. Alicia fought not to retch as the stench was drawn into her lungs, but seeing her host not even register the odour, she steeled herself and stepped in after him.
“Miss Ramsbury, may I introduce you to some of our farm’s residents?” He gestured to various pens, naming each animal to her in turn. Alicia was overwhelmed by the cacophony that emerged. It was surely her imagination, but it seemed almost as though each pig, each duck, each hen, and goat they passed raised their voice in greeting to their master.
Penelope? Clio? Wait a moment…She mouthed the names of the animals again, then smiled with recognition.He really is quite an avid reader, isn’t he? And a lover of the classics, no less!“You name all your animals yourself, then?” she asked with a coy smile.
Laurence gave an odd tilt to his head, as though no one had ever asked him about this before. “Some of them, certainly. Agatha and Bernadette are getting a bit long in the tooth, so to speak—I’m fairly sure Mary-Anne was the one to name them, back when the milking used to be her responsibility.”
She snorted at the image, following Laurence to the horse pens and following his lead in petting the beasts’ soft fur. “I find it difficult to picture Mary-Anne doing such dirty farm work.”
“Oh, don’t let her high-flown ways fool you,” Laurence chuckled. “Her nose wasn’t always stuck so high in the air. When we were growing up Mary-Anne was the loudest-shouting, fastest-running tomboy in the county. She was so frequently covered in mud and grime Mother used to threaten to make her sleep in the pigpen.”
Alicia gave a half-smile, sensing dark thoughts loom over her once more. “You and Mary-Anne have such a lovely friendship, you know.”
He gave a short, dismissive if mirthful laugh at this. “Well, we are siblings, whatever our disagreements from time to time. Besides, we complement one another’s personalities. She likes to think that she keeps me from growing too big-headed, and I let her go on thinking that.”
The joke was a funny one, but Alicia did not laugh. Instead, her eyes fixed on some insignificant mote of dust in the air before them, her fingers still scratching Victoria’s muzzle.
“I really did not want to write my sister today, you know.”
