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Chapter 3
Arrival Among Friends
It was a long walk from out on the highway to the Gillinghams’ house—nearly a league, over rough terrain—but to Laurence, it was always a welcome one. Especially on a day such as this, with the glorious English countryside in the full bloom of summer. He breathed deeply, the smells of the outdoors mingling in his lungs and filling him with renewed vigour.
An afternoon spent away from chores was something he could hardly afford under normal circumstances, but Laurence could not keep from humming a happy tune under his breath as they pushed forward towards home. He noted the late blossoming of the kingcups by the side of the road and breathed deeply of the wild honeysuckle as they passed it by. If this was truly God’s country, as he heard other men describe it, then there truly was no reason to go away from the beauty that surrounded them every day of the year.
One hand guiding Miss Ramsbury’s horse by its reins, the other in his pocket, he walked just behind Mary-Anne, Alicia, and Jenny the maid. Judging by the tone of their conversation, his sister was already making fast friends with their visitor.
“Father didn’t have much, but he left us everything after he died. Well, to Laurence, anyway. We poor women have to work for a living.”
“It sounds like some things are the same everywhere you go!” Alicia replied, laughing. “But however did you find yourself marrying Mister Stanhope?”
“Oh, it’s a long story and not a terribly interesting one.”
“My sister is insightful as always,” Laurence murmured. Jenny gave him a silent look of mirth, but the other women ignored this comment and continued their conversation about the ins and outs of London society.
With a sore forearm, Laurence wiped the sweat from his forehead. He shook his head in disbelief.Who would have ever thought this hot summer morning would bring such a strange turn of events?
For the most part, their conversation flitted among names that meant little and less to Laurence, and he struggled to keep up with just what they were talking about. Every now and then he did have a mind to interject some observation or witticism, but as he opened his mouth he found the words died on his tongue. For some reason, he felt filled with fear that he would say the wrong thing and cause offence with his unsophisticated ways.
Mary-Anne gave him a look over her shoulder, her eyebrows unmistakably communicating the question, “Since when are you so tongue-tied?” He shook his head at her, scowling, and mercifully, she seemed to abandon this sport and turned back to her conversation. Laurence breathed a sigh of relief.
Laurence liked to think of himself as an easy-going fellow who was not given to any problems with social interactions. In most cases, he just attempted to be courteous, keep his cool, and let the other party do the talking. Judging by his high standing in the community, he fancied others found him easy to talk to as well. Certainly, he had never had any trouble conversing with the women of the surrounding farms and villages—they had always been more than happy to carry the burden of conversation, and Laurence had been able to safely assume those young ladies had similar backgrounds and interests as his own.
But this Miss Ramsbury is no Matilda the shepherd’s daughter!Laurence thought, giving her a wary eye. Even travelling light and having been thoroughly dishevelled in the carriage wreck, this Alicia was dressed in a fine blue gown that would earn envious stares at any Dunwood wedding or Christmas festivities.
What would I even say to a proper lady like her?Laurence thought, feeling himself growing ever more intimidated by his houseguest’s bearing.From what Mary-Anne has said, these city women are forever falling out over all sort of slights and breaches of etiquette. How is a simple man of the land supposed to keep up?
They walked on, and the shimmering summer afternoon light fell across Alicia through the oak leaves overhead. From the patchwork shadows that fell over her form, Laurence’s eye was caught and completely hooked by the generous curve of Miss Ramsbury’s derrière. On the rocky road to the Gillingham estate, her steps were hard and unsure, making her bottom shift back and forth in a most distracting manner. In fact, Laurence was so spellbound by the sight of her voluptuous form that he missed a step and stumbled stupidly behind them.
“Everything all right, Laurence?” asked Mary-Anne.
“Yes,” he returned as he hurriedly scrambled back to his proper gait, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment—a colouration that Mary-Anne did not fail to observe, judging by her sardonic smile.
Keep your mind on your feet, Laurence,he thought.And your mouth closed!
“And what about you, Mister Gillingham?”
Laurence looked up, startled from his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”
Her cheeks flushed with their long walk on this hot day, Alicia said, “Well, your sister seems to think your family estate is a lovely place, but nothing compared to any of the greater London homes.”
“Or even the minor ones,” Mary-Anne added with a droll expression.
“And what do you think, then?”
Laurence chewed over his answer to this question for a moment. “I think there’s no better place in the entire world,” he said at last.
This proclamation, however heartfelt, had the effect of throwing their party back into a long silence. For a moment Laurence thought they might not have heard his answer before he finally heard Mary-Anne stifling laughter.
“Oh,” said Alicia. Then, after another long pause, “And have you been many other places, then, Mister Gillingham?”
“Many!” Mary-Anne chuckled. “In his eight-and-twenty years, Laurence has never once been more than fifty miles from the family estate.”
Laurence felt his cheeks redden again with shame. He continued to walk in sullen silence, though Mary-Anne was not yet done with him.
“Not even been to visit his dear sister in London!”
